Wholesome
by Clarilune
Summary: She entered the world as a human but became a Dusk. The life she once knew is gone, and now she's a creature serving in the stronghold of people called Organization XIII. She's pulled into a situation that she can't forfeit and must endure...but can she?
1. One

**So basically, there a few simple things you must know. This I will be hopefully making as a main story of mine. I haven't thoroughly planned this story, but I have a LOT of ideas and events in mind. Hopefully I'll get to do outlines though. This came to me spontaneously, and I literally wrote it today. I apologize for the beginning being so slow, but, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy it.**

**Note: This story is sort of like a rewritten version of the events starting from 358/2 Days continuing on to Kingdom Hearts 2 and possibly a created version of Kingdom Hearts 3. However, it's in a different character's perspective.**

**T/PG-13 for violence, suggested themes, and profanity.**

**Main Genres: Adventure/Supernatural/Romance/General**

Wholesome

**One**

The fabric was soft. It seemed rather flocculent and light, like the texture you'd expect a cloud to have. However, it was also rough, which was logical to say that was an attribute no normal cloud could have. Conclusively, it was akin to the hardness of a sheep's wool. Yes, that seemed right. Both possessed this substance.

I continued with these listless thoughts as my friend strode briskly past me.

"When are you going to stop staring at it and start sewing?" he grumbled, snapping at me with a pithy tone.

I shot him a disfavoring look. "If you need my help, you're gonna wait. Got it?"

It was obvious he wasn't scalded by my autocratic tone. He shuffled past, muttering a chain of incomprehensible words. I would often tease him about his temper, but right now it was too annoying to bear. It certainly wasn't _my_ fault he had come to me as a request to sew some sort of stuffed animal for his girlfriend. And it _certainly_ wasn't my fault he had forgotten her birthday. I'd rather _he_ being sewing since it was for _his_ girlfriend. But, strangely, I felt like I had a duty to sew it for him. I guess it was because he had come to _me_ for the job and no one else. He even criticized the items at the stores, saying they were cheaply made and I did a much better job. I half-suspected he was saying this because he didn't want to buy anything, but I just let that assumption go.

I scrutinized some more of the fabric before I linked it with another piece, carefully aligning the edges. "Hand me a pin."

He snatched my pouch of sewing supplies and rifled through it, uttering a shriek as he managed to stab one of his fingers with a pin. I yanked it out of his skin, allowing a small drop of blood to rise from the tiny opening and slither down his flesh. He wiped it away quickly, causing another one to serve as a replacement. He repeated this process a number of times until the whole thing seemed multitudinously pointless.

I'd never met someone who was as distracting as he was.

I jerked my hand to my left, glaring daggers at him and the churlish behavior he was committing. "Get out. Now."

His eyebrows rose in astonishment, but he didn't question it. He followed the direction of my finger and trailed away. I watched him steadily as he ambled into the next room. I returned my focus then to the object I was to sew and began working.

My hands were shaken and oppressively ached when I was done, while my arms could barely fare for a position that was above resting. I sighed, inclining myself back into my seat as I craned my head over my shoulder.

"Geoffrey, you can come back now."

Geoffrey strode out from the room with a dispassionate expression. He had renounced his anger, it seemed. The tension in his body was gone, and he actually seemed quite tolerable now.

The first of the scene he had taken in had been of the bear I had sewn. He convalesced, brightening as soon as he saw that the gift he requested was complete. I think he was even more satisfied that I had decorated it with accessories, such as the purple ribbon I had tied delicately around its neck. He took the tiny animal in his hands and examined it.

Sometimes Geoffrey appeared like he was made of bronze, for his skin had such a shiny complexion, as well as that natural shade of tan that made his features seem even more golden. His hair was bright blond and looked practically bleached under the glare of lights that I had insisted on turning on. The trickery of his eyes was that they were bright green but were so bright that they often fooled many people into believing they were blue. When I was a child, I had been fooled by this illusion and had even accused him of being a magician at one point. I chuckled at the memory as I dropped all of my supplies back into the tiny pouch.

Geoffrey looked up and smiled the first real genuine smile he had managed all day. "Thank you, Eloise. I'm sorry I was an ass earlier. Relena's gonna love this."

"I hope." I tried to smile, but I felt a wave of sadness pass through me. It was fleeting, and certainly very brief, but it still shredded me so much that I felt like I was about to cry. I rubbed my eyes just in case, not wanting the tears to be revealed if the opportunity came.

Geoffrey peered over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the clock and then flitted past me. "Hey, I'll make it up to you, okay? I've got to go meet Relena. I'll see you later tonight though." He waved before darting through the doorway, leaving me alone in my small wooden home.

I glanced impassively at my hands, which were still shaking from the determination that had been exerted on them. I had never thought of Geoffrey as someone dear to me until now. I had always considered him a friend—a precious, precious friend that had been with me from the beginning, but this was different. When he had gotten together with Relena a month back, she had unleashed a different side of him, a darker, more thrilling side that had given me a combined dosage of irritation and curiosity. This newer addition to his personality was irritating because he was often too willing to do dangerous things. It also interested me, however, because he had attained somewhat of a bad-boy streak. It was somehow—I flushed thinking about it—attractive.

I stood out of my chair and went to the bathroom to examine my reaction to my silly thoughts. My lucent skin had darkened significantly with red, looking even brighter than my light pink lips. I ran a hand through my hair, ruffling it slightly. What was interesting was that it was a very light shade of pink, appearing almost peach. Everything about me was light—light hair, light skin, light lips, and light blue-grey eyes. I supposed that was why I loved wearing dark clothing so much. It made me stand out. I mindlessly took a lock of hair that was underneath my top layers and began tying it into a braid. I examined myself until deciding I was satisfied with the result. One thing I disliked about my hair was what it was often too ruffled. Still, it brought out the layers quite well. My hair always looked so uneven because of it.

Thinking about how sometimes it would remain unruffled, I thought of Relena. She was absolutely perfect. Her hair was always so silky and even, and the fact she had almost the same shade as Geoffrey didn't make it any less pretty. Her eyes were gorgeous and always shining for some reason, too. To complete her beauty, she had the figure of a model. While I…well, I was definitely really thin, but too small. I could never model for anything—not that I'd want to.

I trudged back to the kitchen and sat down. I had lived here for a long time, but I had lived far longer in Hollow Bastion in general than just this small home. I had moved here five months ago after I turned eighteen. I still lived close to my mother, however, because of her reluctance to completely let go of her only child. I visited her sometimes, but mainly stayed indoors or socialized outdoors with Geoffrey. When I was a child, I spent few moments with my dad and only got to savor just a handful of those moments because he had been drafted to go to some distant war and had never come back. I vaguely remembered him, so it wasn't too painful to recall the few moments we had shared in the past.

Eventually I must've dwelled too much and gotten too drowsy as a result because I woke up moments later to a pounding noise that occurred from behind me. I raised my head slowly and wiped my mouth to discover a string of drool, some of which was soaking into the table. I wiped as much as I could and then bolted to the door. Opening it quickly, I instantly brightened as I saw a rather—erm—pissed off Geoffrey standing in the doorway.

I was about to ask him about what happened when he lumbered past me, taking a seat at the table.

"Damn. Relationships are hard," he murmured, and then glanced toward the fridge. "Do you have any lemonade on you?"

"Yeah." I hurried to the refrigerator, grabbed a pitcher of lemonade, and poured it into a glass. After handing it to him, he chugged it down and placed it on the table.

"So what happened? That bad, huh?"

"Worse," he muttered.

"Did she like the bear at least?"

"She hated it."

"What?! How do you know?"

He lowered his eyes to the ground. "She chopped off its head."

"…Why?"

"Because she didn't like it and she was mad at me for God knows what. We got in an argument…but after that it was all good."

I crossed my arms and legs, locking my mouth shut so that I wouldn't rant. Not yet. I would have plenty of time to do it later.

"What the hell did she use to chop off its head?" He smirked at the heat in my tone, but just the fact he found my anger amusing made my voice develop into an anomalous snarl.

"A knife."

"And what? She just _happened_ to have one on her?"

"She's lethal, but that makes her hotter," he confessed, shrugging. "And you know how pretty she is. She has to be prepared if any perverts come on her."

"Right…" I was still really annoyed by the fact she had destroyed what I had spent a long time sewing. I proceeded to pursing my lips and leaning back further, so much that my chair tipped and threatened to collapse.

"So anyway…we talked about some really weird things tonight." He ran a hand back through his hair as he spoke, showing how anxious he was in even remembering it.

I sat up. "Like what?"

"Like…I don't know. After the big argument, we kinda settled down and I wished her a happy birthday. Then she hugged me and told me that it wasn't just her day of birth. It was mine." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he recalled it, and his mind seemed transfixed about something that had occurred in the memory.

I raised an eyebrow and realized how grave he was when discussing it. Obviously, it bothered him, and I didn't blame him. It was kind of creepy. "…That's really freaky."

He met my eyes with an abnormal crossness that totally deteriorated the softness of his appearance. "Yeah, but the thing is…I actually believed her."

"Believed…her?" What the hell? I was speechless after that. I just continued to stare at him, waiting for him to say something that actually made sense.

"Yeah. And then she started asking me about you and a lot of other people."

For some reason, my heart thumped in my chest. I didn't understand how this could terrify me or what reason could be given that would prove why I was terrified. I was just completely and utterly stricken by this tidbit of information. "What did she ask you, and what did you say back?"

He shrugged. "She asked me about mainly everyone's personalities. She asked a lot about you though."

Oh great. A shudder rippled through my body. I stared at him like he was telling a speech at a funeral.

He paused, recollecting some more of his thoughts. "Another weird thing was she was wearing a cloak. A black cloak. It looked cool, but it was…random, I guess."

A black cloak? I opened my mouth to press for more details when suddenly a cacophonous scraping noise—like the shrill cry of nails hitting a chalk board—clamored from behind me. I jumped from my seat and swung around, contemptuously eyeing one of the windows.

A hooked black claw lacerated several lines on the thin glass, pulling the tiny fist backward in order to batter tenaciously against the window until the surface shattered. I didn't know how to react—not immediately. I leapt back just as Geoffrey leapt forward. We exchanged stances. I cowered from behind the table while he hopped challengingly ahead, pulling out a knife I had never seen him use before.

I couldn't look. I didn't want to. I wrapped my arms over my head and bowed my head to the ground, feeling like a horrible friend and an even greater coward. I raised my head only when I felt someone stir from behind me, and that was mostly out of the caution I was taking for my own safety. I was truly a horrible person. But at the moment I forgot about that because as soon as I saw what was behind me, my dread heightened incredibly. It was so immense now that I couldn't even generate a scream well enough to fortify how really horrified I felt.

The creature I saw was truly inhuman, but it looked designed to resemble a shorter, distorted one, for it stood on two weak, bent legs. The claws I had seen viciously buffet my windows were attached to arms that were raised greedily in front of the creature's nimble torso. It had yellow eyes that were embedded to the front of its spherical, rutted head, as well as two long, crooked antennae that drooped lowly over its ash-colored face. The creature was completely black, almost as if its body was composed of darkness rather than flesh.

I scooted back and sprang to my feet just as it attached itself to the floor, transforming into an impossibly flat surface so that it could coast along the ground, looking and seeming apart of it. I fled to the other side of the table and looked for Geoffrey, who I noticed was nowhere to be seen. I saw that my bedroom door was open and realized where he had gone.

I bolted for the room, the adrenaline bolstering my cowardice to a low form of courage. Once I was in the bedroom, I flicked on the light and saw Geoffrey situated in a corner, his eyes surveying the space in front of him.

"What are you doing?! We should leave," I spat, running to seize him.

"Relena…" When he muttered her name, I felt my skin bristle, buttressing an uneasy hatred toward the girl that I suddenly absolutely despised. "She was here."

My fury was washed away upon hearing his last statement, and I joined him in the search. "What? What do you mean? Was she _exactly_ here?" I pointed to the space in front of him, and he nodded.

"She disappeared. She was still wearing the black cloak, too." There was a slight tremor in his voice as he said the rest. The slight trembling of his body provided a greater reinforcement to how much it had frightened him. "She told me it was time."

"Time? Time for what?"

Abruptly, the black creatures sashayed through the doorway, their structural legs allowing them to accelerate toward us. Geoffrey rammed his body into one, his intent being to knock it aside. However, the creature remained uninflected and strapped itself to Geoffrey's arms instead, swarming Geoffrey's limbs by inserting its tiny claws _into_ his body. I automatically swatted the creature with my hand, while my other reflex was to scream and frantically kick the other creatures. Geoffrey got out of the creature's grasp and didn't boggle for long. He jetted out of the space and reached a hand out for me, stretching for me to join him while the conglomerated creatures were momentarily paralyzed from my hits.

I had just grabbed his offered hand when something pawed me to the ground.

They had me.

I struggled frenetically, lashing my body with consolidating strength, feeling immersed by the impossibility of my power. Geoffrey shouted, and I knew that he had tried pulling some of them off of me, for one looked like it had tossed itself backward. I waved my arms, wondering what these creatures were capable of doing. My strength slowly diminished as blow after blow from the repetitively violent creatures met my body.

I shouted as loud as I could. "Geoffrey, run!"

Though it was faint, I heard his voice. "No!"

"You have no chance, and I have no way of getting out now. Just—"

Something plunged into my chest. I gasped, choking on my words and the air I had incessantly swallowed. All of my muscles tightened and felt like they were beginning to coil from the sudden strain. My mind felt like it was being ripped out of my skull just as something else was simultaneously yanked from my rib cage. There was simply no way to describe what happened next.

The world tumbled out from around me, as if it had just been sitting there like a towel that was ready to be pulled away. I couldn't move. I couldn't function. Everything had been devoured by a hurricane of blackness, and I was in the center of it.

And then I was hungry—so powerfully hungry that I didn't bother to think of anything else but the intense hunger. That hunger eddied my being; it became who I was and who I would be. There wasn't anything more important than fulfilling this hunger and obtaining the food that it longed for—that _I_ longed for.

But then it vanished. The intensity of the hunger extenuated, minified, until I felt like I was apart of no purpose—of just the existence of emptiness. That alone was filling.

Still, I was gluttonous. I longed for something else, something I could not have. And I couldn't identify what.

A light spilled through the darkness, fusing irregularly with the shadows. I shrank back, realizing now that I could move. But I realized this too late, for something smacked the side of my head, causing my body to collapse on to a ground that was harder than concrete and more merciless. There was one thing, however, that told me that I was awake, that told me at least one of my senses could still function.

"Stupid creature, to have tried attacking me like that. I am your master. Disobey me, and you _die_!" I had heard a voice, and it was more than a little familiar.

I had heard Relena's voice.

When the echoes of her voice had faded, I knew that so had I…

------

**Sadly, I edited this, like, once. I wrote it as somewhat of an exercise, but I've grown to really like it. I'm going to branch it out more and establish it into a fuller story. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed! Please review if you can/want!**

**Claimer: I own Eloise, Geoffrey, and Relena.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Kingdom Hearts or even Kingdom Hearts in general.**


	2. Two

**I'm going to make it my goal to update after a week, which means my big update day will probably be Sunday. Originally this chapter was going to be longer, but I decided to cut it off because it just seemed like it was rambling. To me, it doesn't feel like the story starts until Chapter Three, but I let ya'll be the ones to decide when I post it next week ;) It'll probably take me a bit though 'cause I'm just now updating this three days after I intended on updating. Nevertheless, I hope ya'll enjoy this chapter!**

**  
Two**

Once my eyes opened and I realized I was actually awake, I stared upward at the dull white ceiling that hung above me. I continued to stare at it, feeling groggy and so tired that I found no point in even trying to move. What really motivated me to actually _look_ at the place was the piercing noise that traveled from the other side of the room. As soon as it blared, I sat up, discovering many things at once. The first thing I discovered was that I wasn't in any pain…at all. I was expecting to have received at least something, such as bruises, but if I had them, I could not feel them. Another thing I noticed was that my body felt light, more buoyant. It almost felt like I was hovering in place rather than actually sitting upon a hard surface. When I looked around, there was another thing I noticed.

This wasn't my body.

I jumped upon my discovery and began to maniacally analyze myself.

My body! What happened to my body?!

My breaths came out in wheezes, and I realized for the first time in a long while that I was hyperventilating. I didn't like the way this hyperventilation felt though. It _seemed_ normal, with the sound of my breaths being consumed with shock and panic, but it didn't _feel _normal. It didn't even feel like I had any lungs, almost as if I was actually forcing air in and out of me. Had those creatures modified my appearance?! Was that even possible?!

It took me a while to adjust to this massive change. My eyes kept flickering to the side as I tried to unsuccessfully figure out whether or not I was hallucinating. Every time I looked down at myself, the image remained unchanged, which would stir another set of trepid gasps. After I finally slapped myself for being so ridiculous, I halted to give a thorough examination, downing my fright with a calm I didn't think I could manage.

From what I could tell, I had thin, jagged, narrow pincers for arms that were composed of a glued-together array of what could possibly be fingers at the ends. My legs were just as thin as my arms and stepped professionally along the ground, advantageously using the ballerina technique by standing on the very tip of my toes. However, it didn't look like I had any; my legs just formed a point at the bottom of them and shaped somewhat sharply into little feet. I glimpsed at my waist and saw that I was actually…curvy. However, the fact that my skin was sickly silver—comparably gray to the surface of the room I was in—really didn't make things any more attractive.

I flounced around the room, taken aback by my newly established grace. Maybe this wasn't so bad. I _felt_ better…but it also felt as if something was missing, like something other than my appearance had been taken away from me.

I squinted at my surroundings. It was nearly vacant aside from the sleek milky white tiles along the floor, walls, and ceiling. The shade almost blended exactly with my skin, but I was more tinted for some reason, and sallower.

I loped to the end where I assumed the noise had been emitted and searched the opening. The noise expelled again, and I turned rigid, flitting my eyes everywhere for the basis of it. It was a maddening sound that had to be captured or destroyed. I didn't understand why I was so determined to end it. Such a thing would've never annoyed me before. I would've ignored it well around a dozen times before I finally snapped.

Then I realized that it didn't annoy me. No, it had a stranger, firmer grip on my mind, as if I was subjected to being pulled to the source. Something else lured me into eliminating it, but I couldn't think of what.

I scurried out into the grand hallway outside of the room I had first been in. The hallway possessed the same bland, milky theme that generally sickened me after staring at it for too long. I flounced down it as if I had been living in the place my whole life and turned a corner, seeing an actually different patterned room this time. This one had a long, gently curving bridge that connected to the other side and contained an odd, frothy veil hovering highly from above it. I stared at it in fascination and then swooped ahead, spinning my body to the side once to provide engrossing momentum as I traveled.

The noise blared again. I froze and darted my eyes in whatever way possible. I needed to find it.

_Come to me…_

The words traveled through my head in a soft, heavenly whisper that felt so real that it seemed as if the breath of the command had tickled the inside of my mind, beckoning me to a place much farther than where I stood. My body instantly whirled in the direction from what had called me and trotted hurriedly down the pathway I had come from. I kept running past the gilded walls, not paying attention to the blurs that streaked past my vision. I recalled how nauseous I used to get when I looked around me as I ran. For some reason, it wasn't problematic this time, and I felt confident in my running, as if even when I wasn't looking where I was going I could still know every way that I went.

_Damn it…Can't you come any faster?_

The voice was still chillingly beautiful but hinted toward a rising temper. I discarded the words and the slight fierce emotion that comprised them as meaningless and continued to sprint, jolting around corners and leaping across bridges that were always outmatched by the length and the speed of my legs.

I stopped in a wide vacant room. I knew I had reached my requested location because everything exuded—even the air and the walls—a feeling of rightness. I belonged in this place. At least, for the moment.

Up ahead was the person who had called me. My body bowed low, and I stared with a mix of shock and confusion. What was I doing? Why was I bowing? Why did it feel so _right_?

The person was clothed from head to foot in a tight black cloak made of a strange leathery kind of fabric. The hood was up, which was why I couldn't see the face when the person turned their front to face me. There was something about this person that gave off an unsettling feeling…but I couldn't think why.

And then they removed their hood.

I nearly gasped, but my mouth felt zippered shut. I almost wondered if it was for a moment before I lifted my body to stand completely.

Relena. It was Relena.

She still looked the same. Her blond hair was too devastatingly beautiful and swept against her neck, looking like freshly combed corn silk. Two strands of hair were distinctively swept back against her head to make her look almost as if she had antennas. When her eyes settled on my face, it felt like the ocean was staring back at me from two small almond-shaped puddles. She didn't have a smile on her face, which served as a great disadvantage to her powdery pale skin. Instead…she actually looked quite evil and malformed from the unexpected scowl she wore. It was a side I had never seen of her.

She stomped forward, the black cloak that Geoffrey had mentioned her wearing before billowing around her ankles. As she came closer to me, her scowl changed into a steadfast smile, one that made me take a resilient step back. I didn't know how it was possible, but she looked even eviler when she was smiling. How could I have not seen that before?

She dipped her head when she was within a foot of me and drew her face closer to mine. My body betrayed me by shaking, and I nearly flinched when she started speaking. Her breath blew shallowly against my face with every word she spoke. It was so hot that it wouldn't surprise me if she was breathing ashes.

"You don't know what you are, do you? Oh, how sad. And you're so new…so you can't understand a word I'm saying." She laughed, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead as she threw her head back. It looked incredibly dramatic and very malicious when applying the position with her cackle. The noise was grating. "Still, I'm happy at least _you_ became a Dusk. I needed a new servant. Lots of Dusks are so…unreliable these days. Making them actually work is when electricity gets handy…wouldn't you agree?"

She took a step back and placed her hands on her hips. "It's a shame you can't remember who you are. You perished rescuing Geoffrey. He abandoned you, you know. What a nice _friend_ of yours." She laughed, throwing her head back again. "Oh listen to me. What am I _thinking_? You can't understand me, so what's the point?" She turned and inhaled, pausing for her next words.

But I couldn't take it. What she didn't know was that I _did_ understand and I _did _remember. What I _couldn't _understand was why she would assume I wouldn't understand or remember anything. Did she really think I was that stupid? Or did it have to do with my new body? The newer me?

I lifted a pincer to my mouth to discover that there was actually a zipper embroidered over it. I used the very point of the pincer to move it and open up my mouth, but the motion brought incredible difficulty. It almost seemed as if the zipper opposed being opened and got jammed several times because of it. Once I had finally managed to get it open, I spoke, but it sounded unnatural, like I wasn't allowed to do such a thing.

"Relena." The best I could do was state her name. It felt too weird to be actually talking aloud again. My voice sounded raspy, like I really needed a glass of water or I had just recently come back from the dead. It wouldn't surprise me if I had.

She spun toward me, eyes wild with flat astonishment. "What did you just say? How dare you—" She froze and then gritted her teeth. "You're not supposed to speak. You're not supposed to speak…!" She shook for a moment before she jabbed one fist by her side, pulling her gloves further up her wrists. "Eloise. You're still…you." She smirked. "Then again, not really, from what I can see."

I knew what she meant in one way. My body had definitely gone through some changes, but I still didn't know entirely what I looked like. My teeth felt jagged and fitted perfectly in place as I tried just clenching my jaw. "What do you mean?" The more I spoke, the easier it became.

"Oh, so you haven't looked at yourself? What a shame." She solemnly lowered her head, as if she actually pitied me. "Poor thing. I guess you can't see how pathetic you really are."

"I'm not pathetic," I growled, and raised an arm. Suddenly, the distorted limb filled with a weight greater than my own and I was sent crashing to the floor.

She laughed at how I looked now. Pathetic, I knew. "You can't fight me. Even when you try, there's that obedient little mechanism of yours that forces you down. Lovely, isn't it?"

I rose unsteadily, balancing myself. "Why are you so cruel…Relena?"

I wanted to continue with my inquiry, but the impetuous scowl on her face silenced me.

"You shall never call me that!" She raised a hand. I was wondering what she meant by the motion when suddenly a surge of pain rocketed through me in a substantial, but rickety motion that sent me into another collapse. The pain felt like it had dispersed after a few minutes, but the aftermath of it hit me fast, sending jolts of electricity spiraling through my system. Her figure loomed over me. She seemed so much taller now. When I had been standing, she was only inches higher than me, which had been the same even when I had been in my normal body. I didn't know why she was making such fuss. I had called her the name when I had first seen her, and she hadn't made a big deal of it until now.

"From now on, you shall never address me with that name. My name is Larxene, but only _worthy_ creatures may call me by that. You are pathetic, useless, and unworthy of my time and everyone else's. _You_ represent the low life forms that aren't meant to exist and should never exist. You are a disgrace to the world—a disgrace to all Nobodies!"

I couldn't understand why she insulted me so much. Did she really hate me that much? There was one thing I was positive of. _I_ hated her that much. She had been nothing but cruel so far. _Now,_ however, was the moment where I didn't understand. Nobodies? I was a nobody? Was I really that low on the social ladder? I expected her to call me something else, like something that was more advanced than the level of a toddler's insults. I knew her vocabulary was colorful, so why had she decided to call me 'a disgrace to all nobodies'?

"Why did you call me a nobody?" I rasped, too tired to attempt to phrase the question any different.

"Because you are one, idiot!" She inhaled to say more, but stopped. "_Oh_. You think I'm talking about another definition. No, I'm referring to a species, a species you're now apart of." She huffed and looked away. "I don't feel like explaining it to the likes of you. Go away. I will deal with you later." Her gaze darkened. "But just remember: there is no escape." She began stepping away but paused once again, looking back. "Keep your mouth closed. I really don't feel like dealing with the controversy the others will find in your speech."

My mouth sealed shut as soon as she had commanded it, and my body dipped into a formal, automatic bow. I really had no choice but to bode with my instincts, which were apparently all intent on pleasing this nasty person who I used to think was nice.

I hated myself right now, and I especially hated that obedient mechanism Rele—Larxene had mentioned. I hated everything right now. The feeling of hate, however, evaporated quickly, leaving a shadowy gap of emotion in its place. In some ways, I felt like I wasn't feeling anything.

I looked at Larxene as she held a still hand in the air, seemingly waiting for the arrival of something. A swirling vortex of darkness appeared from where her hand was positioned, tearing a fissure through a large amount of space that towered over her tiny body. She entered the passage, and as soon as her being was consumed and no longer seen, the vortex withdrew a timid, suckling gasp and then closed, disappearing altogether.

I stared in awe. That was so…interesting. Could I do that? Could I inhabit such a gift?

Probably not, I decided. And if I did, there was no worth in trying at the moment. There were so many things I still needed to know—like what I was doing here, why I looked like this, what and where this place was, where Geoffrey was now, if he was okay, and any other unexplained thought that came to mind. Above all, was this a dream?

My legs slid lazily across the floor. I really had nowhere to go and nothing to do. The only one I believed could answer my questions at the moment was Larxene, but she didn't seem like she was going to be very cooperative.

I wandered around the small area for a bit, enjoying the flexible and tractable feel of my legs. I supposed that since I had nothing to do I could just wait for Larxene. She hadn't ordered me to go anywhere before she'd left anyway—

I stopped myself, jerking my head in disbelief. Why was I actually accepting the fact she could command me? She was rude and cruel—at least, that's what I just recently discovered of her. Before meeting _this_ version of her, I remembered Relena (erm—Larxene, now) being kind and strong. She had always been beaming when I saw her, looking oh-so grateful to be alive…However, Geoffrey's stories of their arguments suggested that this was really the person I had seen all those times. Still, I couldn't efface what I remembered of her and absently hoped she was much kinder than she had just showed. However, something told me that what I had seen was _exactly_ the way she behaved.

I loped out of the area, sliding onto a longer bridge that I had not traveled upon yet. There were so many passages in this place that the sheer amount overwhelmed me. I felt so small and helpless, completely and utterly dependent of this new place that I'd just found today. This almost felt like home, and I would've accepted that feeling if I wasn't intimidated by the broadness of the areas and the bland theme that extended to every end of this vast place.

Eventually, my trail slanted onto a narrow pathway with doors and entrances sidled to both sides. I realized that it was a hall before I continued my route, peeking into rooms that didn't have doors. I was just coming to the end when I heard one of the doors opening, the creaking hinges prompting me to turn in their direction.

At the middle of the hall, the most hideous creature I ever saw cantered out of one of the rooms, lifting its spear-shaped legs high in the air as if it were doing some kind of exercise. What firstly repulsed me about it was its head, with the crooked point on the end that could've served as its nose or some kind of irregular snout and the strange emblem emblazoned across the complete front of its head. Its mouth was rather massive, too, extending along the sides of the head, to where a pair of ears would be. The jagged arrangement of dinosaur-like teeth made it seem even more villainous and repulsive. Its movements were generally torpid, but it carried on with a rather unremitting determination no matter how exhausted its anorexic silver body revealed it to be.

I couldn't bother with not staring at it. It was just so arrantly…ugly. It slackened for a moment as it walked and then peered to look at me, spinning its disgustingly flexible body to observe the ventral of mine. Feeling like it was being too speculative, I shielded my arms forward to cover my torso and then realized something that had been flagrant from the beginning.

We had the same kind of limbs.

I opened my mouth to utter a shriek. However, since my mouth was sealed, my mind served as betterment for my horror. I screamed long and hard until a voice that wasn't my own silenced me.

_Hush. We are not meant to be obnoxious._

I stared shakily at the creature as it directed its knobby head at me. The male voice blossomed again from inside my head as the creature fully faced me, surveying my unorthodoxly thin body.

_You are new._

I nodded slowly, responding with my thoughts since his seemed to be connected with my own. _Y-yes. What are you? What am I?_

He remained motionless, carrying an emotionless tone that made him seem rather mechanical. _You were not told? Who is your master?_

Master? I had to have a master? Is that what happened? By being devoured by those creatures, my appearance had been twisted and I had been sentenced to a victimizing life of servitude? Unbelievable. Just yesterday (or perhaps today because I wasn't really keeping track of time) I had been _human, _and I had actually had _free will._ But now…I was reduced to a creature that lived to serve—at least, from what I could tell.

_Master? I don't have a master. Please just tell me what happened! Why am I here? What am I?_

Suddenly, he whirred and spun his body in a spate of circles, vacillating long enough to gut me with one of his long, pointed legs. I spasmodically collapsed, twitching my limbs whichever way in order to evade his onslaught of attacks. I spluttered, never getting the chance to actually demand why he was attacking me. Then, he finally said why he was.

_A Dusk without a master is an abomination. Abominations must die._

His voice scared me. It was meant to be menacing, I was sure, but the dull, robotic tone only made him seem more emotionless. Why wasn't he behaving normally? Were all of these creatures—myself included, I noted depressingly—supposed to act like this?

I finally couldn't take it anymore. I shouted what I knew would stop him.

_Larxene is my master!_ I didn't reconsider. From the way she had been treating and talking to me, it only seemed logical to assume such a thing. She had even said she had needed a new servant. I still didn't really know how I landed myself in this position, however. It just didn't make sense. I get eaten by monsters…and I wind up looking like this, working for someone that is now supposedly my "master." At least...I _think_ got eaten by monsters.

He halted and reverted to his normal position, acting as if he didn't just try to _kill _me. Really?! That's all it took?!

_Larxene?_

_Y-yes. _I watched him carefully, ready to run if he didn't find my answer valid. He stood there for a while, pondering.

Then, he grunted. _She is fierce, but that will only make you stronger._

I exhaled—or tried to. I couldn't really do it because my mouth was still shut. This brought me to another discovery.

I didn't have to breathe. I could hold my breath for a long time, and I wouldn't die. That was so…odd. But how? Did I not have any lungs? How was I even alive? Was my body really that badly changed? Well, let's see…My flesh is silver and gray, I have sharp pincers for hands, I have a zipper on my mouth, I have really pointed and flexible legs, and—from what I saw of the creature across from me—I also have no ears, no eyes, and a large emblem on my head. So, what was the conclusion to this observation?

My life just _sucked_.

_How did this happen?_ I was about to let my thoughts continue in a rush when the creature interrupted after the first question had been spoken.

_Your heart was taken from you._

_What? _I stared at him, prompting him to continue. My heart was taken from me? How was that sensible?

_Yes. You were formerly a human, correct?_

I nodded.

_Humans have hearts that are stolen from them by creatures called Heartless._ He hissed as he said the name, recoiling his body as if to pounce. I took a step back just in case he planned to.

_Heartless? _My mind calculated what he was saying. The creatures that had attacked my home had been Heartless and they had stolen my heart, which explained that horrible feeling I had gotten before that felt like something had burst out of my chest.

_When a human's heart is stolen, they are turned into a Heartless themselves. There are many different kinds of Heartless that differ based on how strong the person's heart was._

_So…I'm a Heartless?_ I cocked my head to the side. I looked nothing like the Heartless I had seen back at home. Was I just a different kind? How the hell could Heartless steal hearts anyway? This had to be a dream.

_No. You and I are something else. There's another side of humans that are created once their hearts are taken, but that is what it is—the _other side._ What is left behind of the humans are called Nobodies. That is what we are. We are Nobodies. We are the other half of humans. We are a specific kind of Nobody, called Dusks. We live to serve the higher Nobodies. Larxene is a higher Nobody, and you live to serve her._

_I live to serve Larxene?_

_Yes._

…Oh yeah, my life sucked.

He straightened, looking like a soldier right before they gave a salute. _I live to serve Zexion. He is an honorable master._

_Zexion?_ These names were just getting stranger and stranger. I spoke quickly before he could get another word in. _Why must we serve? It's…horrible. And why don't we have a choice? Shouldn't we decide who we should serve?_ I sounded pathetic and whiny, but I didn't care. I was too tired to care.

He fastened his face on mine. His skin rumpled where his forehead would be, and it looked like he was baring his teeth. Was he trying to scowl?

_Do not speak such nonsense. Consider yourself special. Other Dusks are not assigned to anyone and can be used for worse purposes by any person in the castle. We have privileges and just serve one person. You must be grateful._

Now it felt like _he_ was commanding me. Normally I would be complaisant to anyone I wasn't familiar with, but right now I was too tired and beaten to manage any courtesy.

_I'm _sorry._ I'm just a little pissed that I'm not who I once was, okay?_ I snapped at him, and sounded deliriously upset, but he took it quite nicely.

He didn't press me any further. He sort of drew back and paused. _Very well. Newcomers are always dissatisfied and willing to use any sort of emotion that their heart might've left behind. I will leave you to yourself. However, before I must return to my quarters, do you have any questions?_

I felt that after he had spoken to me so respectfully I had to return some of the formalities. _Um…yes sir. What did you mean by the emotion being left behind?_

He bowed his head slightly. _Ah. Hearts contain emotion, feelings. They help _feel_. As we are living, we don't have one. We cannot feel anymore. We can remember, however, but it does not attain to the same effect. Our previous lives become mostly forgotten overtime. I cannot even remember who I once was._

I shook my head in disbelief. We…couldn't feel emotion anymore? It explained how strange it was to experience an emotion and feel it wisp away to God knows where. This certainly justified how quickly my hatred toward Larxene had evaporated and how it had felt like a hole had been left in its place…right in my chest, where my heart used to be. I continued to shake my head, refusing to believe it even when the facts were laid out right in front of me. There had to be another explanation. This was nonsense. This wasn't possible.

But then again, the fact that my body had undergone this transformation had been impossible, too.

Then this was a dream. This was all a dream.

But…this just seemed and felt too real. The monsters that had attacked, my body's transformation…This all felt too _real_. But how?

_You are in denial._

I nodded mindlessly, agreeing with him while also sticking to my theory that there was something wrong with the information he had revealed.

_That is fine. Most are when first coming into existence. You will get over this in time._ He turned to his right, speaking as he maneuvered. _I wish you well._

_No, wait!_ I felt like a nuisance to pester him further, but I glided ahead anyway. He stopped again and faced me. _You said you were going to your quarters. Do we all have quarters?_

_Dusks such as ourselves have our own quarters. Other Dusks must fend for themselves in corridors or another part of the castle. Powerful Nobodies that are much higher ranked than us must be stored in a special part of the castle. They are to be let out, however, when called or requested by the Superior._

_So…this is a castle?_ I should have figured as much. It was too massive and magnificent to be a home.

_Yes. It was created by the Superior. He is our Lord._

Lord? So…Dusks and Nobodies had religion, too? _What does the Superior look like, and where can I find him?_

He spoke gravely, speaking admirably and honorably of the leader. _The power that pulses through him can be seen on first glance. He has homely, warm eyes that can heal even the most wounded. His hair captures the same glow and radiance of the moon and seems as such. He is a gift from the universe. Lord Xemnas._

_Xemnas?_ These names were just too strange to me. I was getting quite curious on the subject of names, so I asked him carefully of his, to which he replied quite quickly while shifting his body the other way.

_My name is Ramus._

Well it didn't sound as unusual as the other names that I'd been hearing. _I'm Eloise._

Just short of him replying, a faint tune—sounding like an old, senior version of a whistle being blown—rang distantly through the air. It sounded somewhat like what I'd heard earlier, like what had called me to Larxene's presence. However, this tune was different. It was out of tune, carrying in a low key. Instead of tugging me to its plea, it felt like it was opposing me as much as I was opposing it, rejecting in a similar way that couples broke apart over phone calls rather than in person. I drew back and felt my eyes narrow into slits, but I didn't know if they were my eyes that I felt (since it didn't really look like I had any) or if they were something else, like extra flaps that blinked and saw like eyes but couldn't be seen.

Ramus nodded once and glided down the path that I'd first seen him traveling upon. _We will meet again. As for now, I must leave. Zexion is calling me._ And with that, he took off in a steady leap, bulleting into a summoned abyss that breathed and swirled with the same darkness that Larxene had used earlier. I wondered how they were able to do such a thing out of thin air before I, too, took off.

I lumbered first down the hall. I never gathered the audacity to peer into any of the rooms. I was too scared. If anything else here was like Larxene, no risk was worth the possibility of my life being taken. I'd steel my curiosity elsewhere.

In the moment that I was alone, I thought about many things. Was it really so simple for those creatures to steal a heart? Was this really happening? Or was it a dream after all? I had a feeling that even a dream couldn't establish this much depth. It was missing fantasizing qualities anyway, like floating pigs in the background or some kind of useless series of events that were filled with the most random contents. It felt too real here, like I was intruding on a new place, a place where I was as good as unwelcome but felt it was where I should be. Then again…couldn't these creatures that have been mentioned and seen—Nobodies and Heartless, and me being a Nobody, as was told by Ramus—serve as a fantasizing quality to a dream?

I stopped and leaned against a wall to let my thoughts consume me. Heartless…Nobodies…The names were familiar. They held a title that were higher than just words that were used to describe people that were cruel or people that were as significant as losers. I remembered hearing many stories—stories that lay mostly forgotten than remembered—about it in Hollow Bastion, but I had never seen those creatures until they had attacked my home and caused me to be born into this existence…into a Nobody. There had been a story—that Geoffrey had loved spreading—that said that Hollow Bastion had once been swallowed by darkness. According to the story, it had not been that long ago. When Geoffrey had stumbled into my home after taking a long journey into the deeper part of town, he was entirely too persuaded that we had once been isolated in darkness, Hollow Bastion had been swallowed and taken over by some witch named Maleficent, and that most of the townspeople had forgotten the incident ever happening because of the mass of events that had unfolded during the time we had been isolated. He told me wholeheartedly that he had been told this by members of the incident, people that had supposedly survived and gotten out of isolation in order to retrieve a help great enough to save their home. He focused on this story for weeks and never let it go. Only after Relena/Larxene arrived did he forget about it completely and take on a new obsession—his girlfriend.

I didn't like remembering this. Larxene still made me uneasy, and something like an empty fury spread through me when I thought about her for too long. It was too hard to think of her as she was now. She was eviler, darker. Geoffrey was right about one thing though. She had been wearing a black cloak. That alone seemed to define evil.

It turned out the hallway extended into a grander, emptier area. It looked like a place that was still being constructed and was decorated with a wall of mirrors. This was oddly too convenient, since I had wanted to look at myself just for a second to prove whether or not I looked exactly like Ramus.

As if on cue with my thoughts, I turned and saw in one of the mirrors somebody that looked almost exactly like Ramus. Upon closer inspection, I saw it was me. I really was that ugly, that evolved. The only difference I found noticeable in Ramus and I's appearances was that he had been a tint darker. Looking in the mirror, I was almost elastically shiny, like someone had wrapped me in clear plastic wrap. The lights reflected well off my armory flesh. I almost felt like a robot, but I kept thanking the heavens that I didn't sound like one, like Ramus did.

…But would I eventually?

I shook my head continuously, refusing to believe it with the same undeterred refusal I had established toward the belief that I had no heart anymore.

I started looking closer at myself and noticed, shadowed along the emblem tattooed to my head, a pair of eyes. They were covered by small flaps that were practically microscopic, but they were there. And they were black; they were as black as the darkness that I remembered had once embodied my body. They glittered dully, containing as much emotion as Ramus had mentioned: none. I tried to see if I had any ears, but I couldn't see anything—not even tiny holes in my skull—that suggested I had a body part that was used for hearing. There wasn't even anything that suggested I could smell. Then again, I wasn't really smelling anything…so could I smell? And if so...could I breathe? From what happened earlier, probably not.

After a while, I hated looking at myself—and hate was an emotion, right? I could still feel that, right?

…Or was I imagining it? Would it soon fade? Was it a good thing that only my fury and hate was what remained, if I could still say it remained at all?

I turned away from the mirror but couldn't help stealing a side glance at my movements. I moved in nearly the same way Ramus had, but I was somehow more graceful. I figured that it was because of the gender differences.

…Did Nobodies even have genders? Well, I sounded like myself, and Ramus had sounded indefinitely male…

The room was a dead end, so I whirled around and took the path I had taken before. I traveled on different routes and moved into rooms that contained nothing but the same white theme and the irregularly structured mantles and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. Just when I thought there was nothing else to this place, I saw a passage. Up until I had approached it, it had been disclosed, hidden in the sides. It slid out from the wall, beckoning me to enter, once I had accidentally brushed my arm against it.

Normally I would've jumped and ran, but there just didn't seem to be anything wrong with exploring the place.

It started out dark. I could only hear the faint click to my footsteps, which even that was hard to hear because I was so _quiet._ Eventually a thrum of voices greeted me, but they weren't external. They were speaking from inside my head.

I began to wonder if the place was an asylum and the explanations I had been given were just a way that the doctors were abiding with, and eventually curing, my insanity. However, the events that had occurred at my home crossed off this explanation as well…But then again, it was possible that I could've been hallucinating. I might've still been hallucinating.

At the end of the passage was a dim, cramped room with slits in the walls, pouring with light. The rectangular room was so small that I estimated it to be about seven feet long and three feet wide. I felt crushed as soon as I walked in. Why? Because I wasn't alone.

Many Dusks huddled together in this room, peeking through the slits in the wall, hushing each other, or whispering excitedly. Mostly they were listening to something that I couldn't understand. When I tuned in to listen, too, I heard a muffled conversation. I caught some parts of it but didn't bother to listen.

One of the Dusks exclaimed as they saw me, realizing a stranger was amongst them. _Look!_

The Dusk that had called me out exchanged a long look with me. I stared unflinchingly back.

_It's the newcomer,_ he finally said again. One of the Dusks next to him shushed him and strained to listen again.

Not many of them cared. They were too focused on the activity they had been focusing on before I had entered. I turned around, not wanting to intrude. I knew they were eavesdropping, and I was tempted to do the same, just to figure out what was going on. However, something told me I would be intruding on a personal matter and that it was none of my business. I made for the passage, until a single voice stopped me, roaring vehemently through the cracks in the wall.

"I did my mission! I had him, but too many people interfered!" Larxene was the one shouting.

I lingered against the wall, throwing objections at my conscience, which told me that it was wrong to overhear this conversation. If this conversation had Larxene, my supposed new master, then there was nothing wrong with listening, right?

A cooler, composed voice crept through the cracks, seizing not as nearly as much graphicness as Larxene's tone had. It was undoubtedly a male. "Interfered? No. It seems rather, Larxene, that you were just incompetent to finish the mission completely. Did you gain a sort of soft spot for this boy? If so, then I've misjudged you." For a second I thought there might've been some sort of amusement in the person's voice, but the edge to it was so cold and unforgiving that it shattered all hope of there being any warmth. "But we have no feelings. Tell us how this happened. Now."

Larxene sounded more tentative now but still really pissed. I guessed what was running through her head. She was probably imagining the man that had spoken to her suffering a slow, painful death. The new personality she had revealed to me suggested that this being the center of her thoughts was very possible.

"He escaped."

"We are _aware_ of this. _Please_, from the beginning." The voice speaking now was nasally and masculine, but so high-pitched that it was irritating to listen to.

Larxene gritted her words. "My mission had been to spy on this boy by orders of…the Superior. The reasons were simple: the boy was with darkness and could be used for us somehow. I decided I would know more, so I went undercover…by taking the role of my Somebody.

"I learned many things by doing this. He was…unlike a lot of other humans. He could open corridors of darkness—unintentionally—and he could feel the presence of darker things.

"A month passed. The Superior told me that I could finish this mission…by taking his heart and bringing what's left of him to us. He was at his friend's—Eloise's, house, so I dispatched some Heartless and watched to make sure he received the proper fate. Instead, Eloise's heart ended up being taken, and he ended up going away. I chased him…but he disappeared. He was there one minute, gone the next." There was a long silence, and I assumed she had finished.

She had to have been talking about Geoffrey. But _why_ would they watch Geoffrey? They had said…he was with darkness? No, this didn't make any sense…Geoffrey was so…light. Tempered at times, but he wasn't _dark_.

I couldn't think for long because the next voice that spoke captured my attention instantly.

It was beyond wondrousness. It had that sort of heavenly element that could've made anyone swoon, but it was even beyond this. I felt like I was being rewarded just by being able to listen to it. My head swam with intensifying bliss as the deep male voice bellowed. As I looked around the room, I saw that I wasn't the only one enchanted by it. All of the Dusks were mesmerized.

"Number Twelve, I have the odd sense that you're not reporting all your findings. Tell us more about this boy," the wondrous voice commanded.

Larxene replied with more hesitation than before, but it was so obvious that she was piqued that it was comical. "What would you like me to specify…Superior?" There was that sort of sharp reluctance catching in her speech, like she didn't want to address the person—I knew he was Xemnas—in such a respectful manner. From her dislike of him, I liked Xemnas more and more.

There was a chuckle, followed by a whistle. A raspier, older male voice with a sort of mellow-surfer tone commented. "You better thank your lucky stars that you're a woman. Otherwise that tone of yours couldn't be classified as PMSing, and that tiny ass of yours could receive double-time on the punishment."

I effervesced with laughter, and some of the other Dusks joined me. Being that I was a girl, I probably should have been offended, but it was too humorous to decline. I anticipated Larxene's response, but instead the cooler voice that had spoken before said something.

"It would be wise to renounce your words, Xigbar, and not interrupt a conversation stimulating with the Superior and another member," they said, sounding so directive and quiet that it probably couldn't be considered accountable for being hypocritical and interrupting Xemnas as well.

Xemnas directed his words toward Larxene, nearly talking over the cool, brazen voice that had just spoken.

"I'm already aware that this boy's name is Geoffrey…but you felt something unnatural around him, did you not? Is that what caused you to become your old self? Is that what caused you to resort to such trickery?"

A haunting silence blew through the place. I leaned in to catch any lost words, almost bumping into the Dusk in front of me.

"…Yes." Larxene muttered it so quietly that it took me a minute to realize that she was the one saying it. I wondered if my hearing was so enhanced that it could pick up the faintest of whispers.

"What abnormality did this boy distinguish?" It was a deeper, olden tone that was only slightly raspy when compared to the joking man that had spoken earlier.

Larxene sounded calmer when replying, but I didn't doubt that she was secretly boiling. "I could…feel when I was around him. He made me feel…like I had a heart."

A hush fell. The Dusks around me bubbled up, like what she said had been miraculous. If what Ramus had said was true, then it was miraculous. Still, I refused to believe it.

Muttering roused from the room ours was connected to. Mostly the replies were composed of disbelief.

Larxene sounded flushed and angrier. Her voice rumbled. "It's true! None of you were there to test it for yourselves, so all of your disagreements are meaningless!"

"Your _answer_ is meaningless," the nasally voice scoffed. "We've all met objects or places that make us _think_ we feel, but we don't."

"That's rather impulsive, Vexen. Larxene doesn't have much of a reason to lie, and this doesn't seem like something she'd admit to someone—or anyone." The wispy, flowing voice that spoke now was so soft that I almost mistook it for being feminine, but realized it was male, if nothing else.

"If that's the truth, then were you romantically involved with this boy, Larxene?" Another new voice asked this, speaking in such a flat, emotionless tone that I nearly thought it was Ramus.

She was furious. "I was only _pretending_ to be, Zexion. Honestly, being good with illusions you might've been able to figure that out, but I guess you're just as stupid as—"

"Why were you pretending?"

"It was a way I devised to keep a close eye on him. He was just so stupid and easy to manipulate. Most men are," she added under her breath before she continued. "It was easier to get information. He gave me everything I needed. Idiotic boy."

I stiffened. She had been pretending to like Geoffrey, and he had easily fallen into it. He had loved her…and she had been secretly laughing at how stupid he was. What right did she have to affect Geoffrey's heart? What right did she have to make him love her when it was not possible for someone like her to love and surely cruel to lead him on in such a way? I wanted to seep through the slits in the wall and attack her, imagining how much damage my new body could do. No, no…that obedience mechanism would kick in and knock me down just like before, I remembered depressingly.

"Larxene, the rest of your mission's success must be discussed in private. As for now, this meeting is dismissed," Xemnas commanded, and there were obedient mutters in response.

I wanted to question why Xemnas wanted the rest of the information to be delivered in seclusion, but I knew it would be disrespectful if I did. Somehow, I knew that the other people in the room had thought of this, too. Well, apparently _most_ of them. There was one that was either really daring or just really clueless.

"Really? We're leaving already? What gives?" This voice sounded younger than the others. It was definitely male and definitely clueless. Not only this, but it had a goofy curve to it, like this person was doomed to never take anything seriously.

There was a sigh, and the mellow-surfer voice that had insulted Larxene earlier replied. "Don't make me regret finding you, kid."

"The meeting is closed, Demyx, so _buzz off_ and go do something useful—if you're even capable of doing something that's even remotely helpful," Larxene said in that cruel I'm-mad-but-also-somehow-amused-because-I-like-hurting-people-like-you sort of voice.

One of the Dusks in the room growled, meaning Larxene had probably just degraded its master.

"Aw, come on, Larxene. Is that a way to talk to a higher rank?" This new, male voice had a mischievous, sarcastic edge to it, making me wonder if this person could take anything seriously either.

"No, but it's a way to talk to our biggest failure," she snapped. The tone she used now shocked me. She still sounded cruel, of course…but she had developed a bashful, nearly warm edge when replying to the person that had defended Demyx. All I had to say was…What the hell?

Several whirring noises occurred. I suspected that many of the people had begun to teleport through portals that Larxene and Ramus had been able to open earlier. They even made the same sounds.

Afterward, there was a silence.

"What is it you want to hear, Superior?" Larxene asked quietly, breaking it.

"I would like reports to be shared on this girl named Eloise." I jumped out of shock, and many of the Dusks turned to steal a glance at me. "The reports you had filed contained only brief information on her. I know your focus was on Geoffrey…but I suspect there's something to this girl."

"Oh, there's nothing," Larxene said with a snort. "Her Nobody is a Dusk. She was as weak and as stupid as any of the others."

I jabbed one of my arms beside me, nearly hitting the other Dusks that had turned to look at Xemnas's new interest. How nice. I was just glad that Larxene thought of me as _lovingly_ as I thought of her.

"That may be…but I can't release my suspicions. Is the Nobody's memory still intact of her former self, or has it already begun to fade?"

"It's still strongly intact. Is there something you'd like me to question?"

"Yes. Scrape to find out as much information as possible, and let the topic of your conversations be of Geoffrey. This boy must be found. He may be able to end the fate that we've all succumbed to."

Awed silence spread through the room. _Geoffrey_? Extremely tan and tempered Geoffrey!? I shook my head in disbelief just as the other Dusks murmured quietly to themselves, gossiping about how Xemnas never spoke so informatively in front of lower members. Whatever that meant.

Larxene was just as bewildered as I was it seemed because her pause was so extended that it took her a while to find her voice. "Yes, Superior."

There was a shuffling of movement, sending deep echoes as powerful as Xemnas's voice. "I've heard your pleas to acquire a new servant since your most recent servant met an unfortunate end…Keeping Eloise alive as your servant will be advantageous to the Organization's ambitions. However, for this to happen, you mustn't treat her with the same misgivings that you've bestowed upon past Dusks. We do not want another Dusk depletion, and I will not forage to retrieve another one for you. Treat her with care."

Oh _no._ No, no, no! This couldn't be happening…Larxene was my master. She would be the one to command me for the rest of my life. Some of the Dusks in the room turned to give me pitying glances as I felt a cross of dread and understanding flow through me. The dread was probably derived from my true feelings, whereas the understanding must've come from my new slave-insistent existence, which was already gaining that odd determination to serve Larxene. I was so, so screwed.

"Yes, Superior." A smile—a cruel one, no doubt—was strong in her voice. I nearly started choking. She was going to torture me!

There was another whirring noise, and I knew that Larxene had gone. I wasn't sure if Xemnas was still there. I felt like he was, possibly just dwelling for a bit longer before he had to leave.

One of the Dusks whirled to face me, still wearing that bizarre, pitying expression that could only look hideous when displayed on creatures such as us. _Good luck._

I felt sick. I nodded at each Dusk that spoke to me, most of which wishing me luck. They never introduced themselves to me. Just left when they saw fit, silently pitying me in their minds while also sending me waves of reassurance.

I couldn't teleport in the way they were doing, so I trekked my way back through the passage, stepping reluctantly. When I reached the end, I wobbled out, not giving the effort to stand precisely. I wanted to cry, but my new eyes could not conjure any tears. And the sadness stirring from inside me was relevantly empty—so strongly dulled that it was hard to even feel it there.

I began loping slowly on the trail that would surely lead to my new master. My mind and body, however, was tugged so strongly by a whistle that was so distinctly directed toward me that I didn't hesitate or wonder if it was meant for someone else. My body automatically rocketed in its direction, and I realized that it was Larxene making that noise, possibly using a tool that was meant to lure Dusks.

I was there in no time after I had swung through many paths that I hadn't yet familiarized with. I stood in a wide, nearly endless hallway, staring at a door with the name "Larxene" deeply embedded in the white surface. It looked neat, but unnatural, like Larxene had rebelliously carved the word into its surface knowing that it wasn't supposed to be there but wanted to put it there just to announce that this room belonged to her and that no one should enter unless given permission. I gulped and steadied myself before reaching for the door knob. It took a few tries to grab the knob because I wasn't really skillful when using this new—and bizarre—arrangement of fingers.

The door creaked open upon me gently twisting it, and the movement that I heard from inside halted at the sound. I gulped again and forced myself in, not caring what Larxene thought now.

Another dull white room greeted me, but it had some personalization that I had yet to see from the rest of the castle. The sheets on the bed were palely pink, possessing the same shade that my hair—when I actually had hair and a human body—had had. The dresser next to it looked like it had gotten the torturous behavior that I was expecting to get soon. The corners were singed, and there were many areas that were so badly marred that it made me wonder why the piece of furniture had yet to be replaced. The walls—which looked like they had received as much damage as the dresser—were interconnected and extended to two smaller rooms in this one, most likely a closet and a bathroom. On the door that I expected to lead to the closet, there were many embalmed words that made me think had been carved merely because Larxene had gotten bored. There were several paint attempts, I could see, as well. Mostly there were shades of pink streaking across the place—the floors, the walls. It was obvious Larxene had gotten sick of the white just as much as I did. From the looks of things, she never completed a paint job and had yet to do so…unless that was to be one of the things she would make me do.

Larxene was on the other side of the room, staring at me with a scary smile. I tried not to shake, but it was hard not to. I was half-wondering how a person like her could like the color pink so much when she approached me in one fast stride.

"'Bout time you got here. Too bad you're still so…new. You probably don't know how to use a portal…which makes you even slower…"

Suddenly, a force slashed me and sent me crashing into the wall. I moaned, feeling like a gaping hole had been torn on my body. I stared at her long enough to determine what happened. She was grasping those short, deadly knives with little jolts of electricity zigzagging across the metal and now her hand. She stared at me with a triumphant and equally cruel smile, stilled into a stance that implied she wasn't done hitting me. She had whipped out the weapons so fast that I hadn't even seen her done so.

"You know what that meant, right? That you shouldn't keep me waiting! Come a little faster next time, and you won't get hurt…maybe." She smirked.

_What a stupid reason,_ I thought, and then realized that she had only been looking for a reason—any reason—to pummel me. She would hit me with any opportunity that came. Was she really that sadistic?

"Stupid? I think it's reasonable," she said notably, making me realize that she could hear any direct thoughts that I projected, and then kicked one of my legs. _Hard._ "If you're going to talk disrespectfully of me, at least do it when you're not in front of me." She smirked and trailed off to her dresser to rifle through her drawers.

I backed up against the wall, too terrified to not cower. It really wouldn't take long for her to kill me. She was supposed to treat me well. If this was her giving good hospitality, then I didn't want to see her when she was giving bad hospitality.

When she turned back to face me, she had a paint brush in her hand and a bucket of paint in the other. She placed both down in front of me and crossed her arms.

"The first thing you can do is paint the place. And while you're doing that…" She paused to lounge on her bed, pressing the back of her head into her pillow. "You're gonna tell me about Geoffrey."

And so, my torture began.

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**This chapter is literally double the size of the first chapter. I don't like how it turned out though. Everything seems really rushed to me. Anyway, please review if you want/can!**


	3. Three

**Ta-dah! Chapter Three! It took me forever to update, but I managed to update before the supposed deadline! So, as I'm sure most of you know, I won't be updating accordingly, meaning that I won't update every Sunday or whatnot. I'll just be updating whenever I feel the chapter is good and ready. Though I'm a little mad with how some of the events in this chapter transpired, I hope each of you enjoy it.**

**By the way, before I forget thank you to SesshyLover-cha, Cori Shadowfang, Princess of Rose, and Anuiance for reviewing! All of your reviews were delightful and made me increasingly happy to read! THANK YOU SO MUCH. Also, Anuiance...that is the LONGEST review I have ever read. O_O Really. I really appreciate each of you taking the time to review and collect your thoughts about the chapters. It really means a lot. All of them were insightful and fun to read. THANK YOU. :D**

**WARNING: This chapter will contain a lot of angst and explanations. In other words, until the next chapter, you'll be bored out of your mind. Nevertheless, this chapter is quite necessary, so I hope you enjoy!**

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**Three**

I glared and knew I had no choice. My muscles automatically moved to make me pick up the paint brush, even though I fought a great deal against them, doing so much as to strain my limbs. Regardless of what I did in opposition to the orders, I began to paint, streaking the brush vertically on the nearest wall.

I began with the rebellious reproach and avoided asking what she wanted to know about Geoffrey. _Shouldn't you know? Aren't you his _girlfriend_?_

There was a pause. I wasn't brave enough to look and see how my words had affected her. When she replied, she sounded thoughtful, though it came with growing hesitation.

"I'm going to forget you said that. Now go on before I change my mind and remember," she said with enough bite in her voice to make me obey.

_What do you want to know about Geoffrey?_ I couldn't speak aloud still because of her order from earlier. The only way that I could talk now was telepathically, using my thoughts, which explained how Larxene had heard me after I had transferred a thought so visible and clear that she'd have no choice _but_ to hear it.

She pondered. "Anything you know about him." Oh God, that could take forever.

I began. I started with how I'd met him, explaining how much of a lonesome toddler I'd been and how I had just stumbled upon him in the playground one day. He had been quiet then and didn't really like talking to anyone. At the time I had managed to coax a few words out of him, but it had taken forever. We had been friends ever since. I went into his habits next, speaking of how he stared at the ground when he was lying and how he inadvertently rubbed a lock of hair between two pinched fingers when he was thinking intently about something. It was easy to tell when he was about to launch into some sort of tirade because he began pacing restlessly and grinded his teeth together. I started talking about how he used to stutter when I asked about his parents and how he'd change the subject almost immediately. Come to think of it, I never really met his parents—

"Stop."

I froze and went limp, glancing back over at Larxene, who looked like she was reeling with ideas as she sat hinged on the bed.

"That's it." She stood and quickly brushed past me. "Stay here. I'll be right back." She walked into a summoned portal, disappearing almost as soon as she entered it.

I leaned against an unpainted part of the wall, daring my eyes to cry while wondering if they could. If I couldn't feel any emotion, then could I feel sadness? The emptiness I was feeling served as some sort of sadness, I guessed. It felt like there was some kind of emotion buried deep inside me, so deep that it was nearly untouchable. But it was still there, wasn't it?

I was tired of questioning it, but I had so many questions. Did I have emotion? Did I have a heart? Was this really real?

If this was, there had to be some way to test it. Usually many people declared that it wasn't a dream if some kind of pain was experienced inside it. However, I really didn't feel the need to stupidly hurt myself. In my dreams, I would get hurt and still not wake up. The only times where I'd experience pain and wake up was when I was on the verge of dying inside the dream. I rounded my options together and wondered what would happen if I fell asleep inside this "dream." It seemed to be my most harmless option at the moment, and since Larxene wasn't here, it seemed all the more inviting…The question was what would Larxene do to me if she returned sooner than expected and saw me sleeping on the job?

Almost too tired to care, I crawled over to Larxene's bed and nestled myself in the sheets, pressing my head into her pillow. I closed my eyes and drifted for a moment. Everything eased into slumber, sending my mind into a drowsy haze…

_BANG._

I jumped and rolled out of the bed. Flitting my eyes around, I noticed one thing.

I was still in Larxene's room. My so-called dream was reality.

I got only about two seconds to mope about this fact because someone strolled into the room. I nearly gasped when I thought it was Larxene and darted over to the bucket of paint in case it was.

But it wasn't. It was a tall man whose hair frilled all along his skull and went to his shoulders at medium-length, colored with a fresh, luscious shade of pink. What was shocking was that his hair color was nearly identical to what mine had been. His eyes held the most difference in comparison to my appearance because of how stunningly bright they were. His skin was tan but not as tan as Geoffrey's; I was beginning to think no one's was. The black cloak he wore was the same as Larxene's, except that it wasn't as tightly worn as hers had been. It pulled nicely against his well-built torso, exposing some of his muscles.

His eyes settled on mine, causing me to cringe. He held no reaction to mine.

"Where is Larxene?" When he spoke, he spoke in the wispy, flowing voice I had heard defend Larxene earlier.

Feeling crushed under his gaze, I replied, _She left. B-but she'll be back._

He turned away from me, facing the door. "I don't have time to wait. When she returns, tell her to come see me." He slowly strode to the door.

I tried to open my mouth to request his name, but it was still zippered shut. Angrily, I flung the pincer to my face and pried strongly, feeling the muscles in my arms quaver in intermittent spasms as the endurance of the tugging almost instantly wore them out. The zipper wouldn't budge, no matter how much force I used. Determinedly, I tugged with renowned strength, nearly exposing my muscles to a greater form of exhaustion, until the zipper finally loosened and unzipped.

Automatically, my body retched, and I dropped to the ground, gasping air that tasted acidic through my now opened mouth. My body continued to heave, but I wasn't really throwing up anything. After my muscles seemed to realize there was nothing to upchuck, I froze, unintentionally permitting an imperishable burning to flood my lips. Was this what it was like to disobey a command?

I was now moaning as I hugged myself with two exhausted arms. The man stopped to glance at me from the doorway, seeming curious and bored. He just stared at me, not really saying anything and not quite grasping enough concern to probe my condition. Wasn't it polite to ask if I was okay? Why wasn't he doing anything? Was no one _normal_ around here?

After the pain numbed a bit, I asked in a wounded voice, "What's your name?"

His eyes widened. Finally, a decent reaction! The shock was quickly abolished by his calm expression and an unwavering smirk that followed. Fascination was moored in his eyes, aggrandizing the brightness of his irises and revealing an emotion that wasn't familiar. The emotion was so raw that I had to question if I was imagining it there and if my eyes were only letting me see what I wanted to see.

"You…can speak."

I had to pause a flat-out two seconds before I realized how stupidly wrong it was to even question this man outside of my head. The prostrating realization of it all—of all that was happening—really dulled my common sense. I couldn't risk acting immediately now because, after going against orders, Larxene would surely kill me. I came to ponder this for a few seconds before I came to a somewhat revelation of a decision. I didn't care if she killed me. What point was there to live? If she killed me…then so be it. I had no other reason to live. Everything had been taken away from me. Everything.

But...Geoffrey…He was still out there. This gave me a reason to live, to stay alive for the time being. I was really stupid to consider suicide or death this soon. I couldn't. Not yet.

As his name flickered inside my head, words of foregoing bored into my mind, enclosing my thoughts as another fissure of realization sundered through me…

"_It's a shame you can't remember who you are. You perished rescuing Geoffrey. He abandoned you, you know. What a nice _friend_ of yours."_ These words were followed by Larxene's lurid cackle, adding to the shivers already oscillating through my armored flesh.

…_He abandoned you, you know…_

…_abandoned you…_

I found myself shaking—out of fear, rage, or sadness, I wasn't sure—as the man continued to study me and form words that looked mute to my acute vision.

Geoffrey would never abandon me. So then Larxene had been trying to trick me.

No, she wouldn't trick me. She didn't even know I knew anything…

Unless that had been apart of the trick.

I wavered off the subject as I noticed the slight twitch of annoyance to the man's face. Regardless of what any of it meant, Geoffrey was still out there, and he was still alive. And the people that lived in this place…were looking for him. I didn't know if this was a good or bad thing, but that meant if they found Geoffrey and I remained here, I would find him, too.

The question was…would he accept who I was now?

I couldn't consider the real, true answer to that question and stared at the man as he began to turn toward the doorway, finding no sort of patience could aid him in waiting for an unresponsive Dusk. He probably thought my voice had been a hallucination at this point.

"Wait!" The sound of my voice made him deviate nimbly to face me, settling his cool, impassive eyes on mine. The grace he extruded was phenomenal and held an art more skillful than that of dance. I could've sworn I saw a few petals of some flower abscond from his hood, or even his sleeve, but I snorted at the ridiculousness of the thought, questioning my own imagination and mind and wondering if insanity really had plagued me.

"Yes. I can speak. Larxene told me not to, but it's so much easier than actually thinking what to say. Thoughts are meant to be hidden, not revealed." I massaged my mouth a bit with my arm. It was beginning to feel sore, and the burning had yet to deteriorate.

The man approached me and kneeled down to the ground to level with my sitting form. His face was positioned close to mine with his eyes nearly drilling into my skull.

"How…interesting. And you're Larxene's new pet?"

Pet. Ugh. I hated the way that sounded. "No. I'm her new servant—unfortunately." I made a face, but it probably looked repulsive with the way I looked now. I almost slapped myself when I realized that was what he had probably been referring to. _Pet_ meaning another term for _servant. _Oh dur.

He smirked slightly, amused not by my comment but something else. "And your name is…?"

"Eloise. And you?" It was strange how naturally I could carry a conversation with him. If I wasn't with Larxene, I supposed I could carry a conversation with anyone.

"Marluxia." He surveyed me, pulling his face back and rising to his feet. I had to lift my head to see his face now. He, like all of the others I heard about, had a bizarre name. "Where you came from I wonder…" Then he tensed, locking his arms in place. "Eloise…You're the connection to that one boy…Geoffrey. Larxene mentioned you before."

"Yes. Geoffrey's one of my good friends. From the way you talk about Larxene, it seems that you two are—" I stopped with good reason. My eyes had begun, as I was speaking, to draggle to the side, to where Larxene's bed was noticeably placed. Something had appeared on the bed. At first my vision had not calculated what was sitting on the bed or if what it was could be a who. But when I recognized who was there, a fear far greater than I've ever known shattered any other conclusions to what I had been saying.

Larxene was on the other side of the room, sitting on the bed in a pinched position, so rigidly stringent that it looked like she was suffering through a wedgie. I had not even heard her appear. When I glanced over at her, she was suddenly just there, staring with an expression of deep hatred and fury, only appending to how completely tight she looked.

"You disobedient little schmuck!" She bolted for me, knives locked between her fingers. She rushed past Marluxia, who had taken to hovering back a little, most likely to not interfere with her abusive methods. She swung one of the knives across my head, and my vision blackened for a second as I fell back against the bed frame. The pain that shot through me came almost as fast as Larxene had. It started out small and then seared through my skull as she continued to attack me.

I moaned agonizingly. It was the only thing I could do to withstand the pain, but even then that wasn't enough. A throbbing ejection of aches that lined from the exterior of my shelled skull to its core began, becoming so unbearably excruciating that it caused me to fall on my knees as I tried, unsuccessfully, to alleviate the pain with my hands by gripping my head tightly with my fingers. This was hard to manage because my fingers weren't really structured enough to be considered operational in means of grabbing things. Another dilemma was that this new body I had gained was extremely lacking compared to the body I used to have. Sure, it was faster and flexible, but it didn't have all the necessities in my opinion. So, because of the inability to comfort my mind with a physical touch, I believed that this time she really was going to kill me (though that could've been the effect of abuse talking). What provided further evidence to this belief was that she really wasn't holding back, and she wasn't stopping.

But no, I was wrong. Another voice projected, ending the abuse at the same time I had dreamed for it to end.

"I guess I must be hearing things, Larxene, because I thought Xemnas said to treat her well." It was the mischievous, sneering voice from before, the one that had actually gained warmth from Larxene's reply.

I cracked an eye and saw only a sliver of the scene that was unfolding from around me before I fainted completely.

[-***-]

I seemingly woke up almost as soon as I blacked out. The object I was laying on now was more comfortable than Larxene's bed, which I remember I had been constantly dunked into by her endless combat. Honestly, I used to believe people like her existed only in stories because I had never met anyone as sadistic as she was up to this point. Everyone at Hollow Bastion had been kind and hospitable to a point of no discourtesy, so to suddenly experience someone who was like Larxene seemed too drastic of a change.

Despite the comfort this new place offered, I was uncomfortable. The abuse I received was unquestionably real because I was aching so much that I didn't even want to move. Because of the unforgettably hurtful experience, I was more than a little mournful of my change at the moment and of the fact that I would be serving Larxene. It would've been so much easier, I supposed, to just let her kill me…

_Had_ she killed me?

I studied my surroundings carefully, first probing the blubbery substance that I sat upon. It was almost like an inflated, opaque bubble that was made out of material that made it look silky but feel rubbery. It elevated me to a higher point, making me feel as if I was on top of a hill rather than…whatever this was, staring out at an un-lifted terrain of something consisting of the same substance. The whole room was endlessly stretching and insulated, reminding me of…an asylum. Maybe I was going insane, I noted thoughtfully while rising to my sharp feet.

I was half-expecting the surface I now stood on to pop as soon as my feet dug into its bubbly structure. However, it seemed as if the attempt my feet made to puncture the substance wasn't successful as it felt like the ground beneath me tensed so much that it became uncomfortably rigid, like it was acting in defense of my injuring weight. I skated across it, darting athletically to the other side. It shocked me when I suddenly leapt into the air and launched into a series of flips and somersaults that I never thought my body was capable of. Then again, this was a new me, paired with a new life. It was to be expected that I'd experience things I wasn't able to experience in my old life.

I never halted. The exhilaration of the speed made me feel so invincible to the point where I didn't feel completely worthless anymore.

I was sailing exuberantly along the surface when suddenly something with a greater velocity zipped past me, knocking me to the side as the wind they generated swept me full force. I collapsed onto my side, hoping I'd bounce back up upon landing, like I was standing on top of an airy, inflated balloon. Instead, my body pounded into the ground with such harshness that I thought I was bruised enough to have landed on concrete rather than the substance I had been half-flying on just a second ago.

I looked over my shoulder at the _thing_ that had passed me. It disappeared down one of the gray, augmented hills, shouting with volume so loud (in its mind, because no other Dusk up to this point could communicate aloud) that it left my ears ringing. It was clear it was a person—a person I was familiar with, because the voice I heard sounded entirely too familiar and fresh in my mind, like I had just heard it moments ago…

I rose to my feet and followed quickly. It didn't take me long to catch up. My speed was universal and enhanced so flowingly that you'd think my life depended on the victory of this little chase.

It turned out to be another Dusk, shouting cheerfully into the air it hurtled through. I decided this Dusk was relatively harmless, but I couldn't confirm it for sure because I couldn't understand a _word_ it was saying.

I dove on to the Dusk, plunging both of us headfirst into the suddenly rock-hard ground. He sniveled and shrieked as I managed to forcefully secure his wriggling body, cincturing him to a pitifully pleading halt.

_S-stop! Don't hurt me! _he wept with plenary importune. The voice I heard was familiar, and it took me a bit to piece it together.

Ah. It was the Dusk that had addressed me before, the one that had called me out to the other Dusks, all of whom had paid little care and attention until Xemnas had shared an interest in me to Larxene.

I dug my arms into his jagged shoulders, daring him to recognize me. This Dusk stopped struggling and stared at me long enough to scrutinize who I was, breaking into something comparable to a grin.

I frowned, not quite sure how to respond to this flattering expression. He stopped begging and sat upward, shoving me neatly off of him with an unassertive push. I toddled onto my feet, the slick feel of the ground fortifying the balance my legs felt empowered to maintain.

_Hey, newbie!_ he exclaimed, waving frantically with one of his pincers as soon as he stood to transform to a height that was inches above mine. His tone made it seem as if it was beseeching for a laugh, and I had to give one because of just how hilarious his enthusiasm was. He sounded like he'd be in the late stages of his teenage years, but his behavior was suggesting he was even younger than that. _Already knocked unconscious by Larxene, huh? She's one tough bitch, ain't she?_ He paused to look over his shoulder, as if fearing Larxene was in range and might've heard him. He turned back to me with a smile. _It happens._

He shuffled past, his forehead wrinkling as he became occupied with another thought. I trotted after him as he began to mumble to himself. There was one thing I was thinking the whole time he trailed away from me.

He was an odd individual.

Still, I liked him…so far.

I shook my head aggressively. I shouldn't like anyone in this abusive place yet. It was too soon to make any sort of alliance or assumption.

I guess he heard me following him because he spun around, giving me a good onceover with his beady, infinitesimal eyes.

_Oh, sorry! I do that sometimes, _he apologized in an exculpating voice.

I raised an eyebrow (at least, it felt like I did) and cocked my head to the side. I wanted to ask what he meant by saying that, but I really wasn't sure how to respond. It felt natural now to speak aloud, but I was afraid of freaking him out if he discovered I had the capability to communicate how _regular_ people did. That, and I was seriously afraid of what Larxene would do if she found out that I was talking aloud to more people. I didn't get to finish this debate because he quickly answered my question before I even had the chance to ask it.

_I kinda just wander out of the blue. Price says I have A.D.D., but I don't think that's—_ He swung his head around fiercely, like someone was loudly calling his name, making me jump from the alacrity of the motion. _Did you hear that? Oh man…if that's Blaco…_

I stared, contemplating how to reply to this again. I laughed first, which caught him off guard I guess because he spun around again and scrutinized me with the same shock that would be directed toward an alien or unknown creature. Then he grinned again and placed his arms triumphantly on his waist.

_That's me, the comedian. Call me Swain though. Price calls me Swain the Pain because I'm _killer. _For reals, man._ He paused just as I did the same to question whether I should laugh at his weirdness or just back away slowly. _Then again he always adds in 'in the ass' whenever he says it…_ He grimaced thinking about it and loped around me, inserting a speculative glance into his queer gaze. _So…you mute or somethin'?_

I really didn't get an option to answer because he spoke…_again_.

_It really does suck that you have Larxene. And because you're mute, guess that makes it worse…You know, her last servant committed suicide._ He stiffened as he saw how briskly I did as well. _Oh…that was kinda stupid…Um, well Benny hated life anyway. He was always complaining about being a Dusk…He said he was depressed when he was a human, too. So…_

I zoned out. What this guy—Swain—was saying really wasn't helping. The last servant committed _suicide_. Of course, he had been in my position and had been forced to do stressful tasks assigned by Larxene. But the fact was, he had committed _suicide_. Larxene had not chosen his death; he had.

How did Benny commit suicide anyway?

_Hello? Hellooo?_

I turned back to Swain. His eyes were trained assertively on mine. He realized the graveness he had offered, and I had no doubt he could see the ideas spinning like a web in my face. I tried to let my gaze travel to the ground, sending a hint of the discomfort I found in his prying glimpse.

_I'm Eloise,_ I answered back apathetically, deciding not to share my interests toward who Benny was and how he had been able to commit suicide. I decided that leaving Larxene content with my muteness was best if I wanted to stay alive. At least for the moment.

Swain brightened. The eagerness in his reply was so zealous that it would've blinded someone had it been a form of light instead. _Yes! You can talk! Awesome._ He seemed to throw his head back a little, reminding me, somehow, of a large gaping mouth, getting ready to yammer on about useless or helpful information…

_What is this place?_ I inquired quickly, before he could get another word in. I was glad I had said something first. He could talk up a storm.

Swain frowned in puzzlement. _You don't know? Well, it _is_ your first day. You passed out last night, _he added to my quizzical look. _This is where _we _go. You know. The Dusks that have masters. Your master is Larxene, mine's Demyx, Price's is Xigbar's, yadda yadda. Basically, it's our big giant room. And this—_ He tapped his feet on the unusual ground. _–is our big giant bed. It's all we got. We stay here to hang out, chill, yadda yadda._

I couldn't help studying the place. It seemed vast and infinite, but so boringly dull—with the gray textured bubbly hills stretching out to God knows where—that I had to estimate that the motivation to kill myself would probably come faster the longer I stayed here, which was actually quite scary to think about. There were no objects from what I could see; it was just a compilation of malleable, elevated hills consisting of an unknown substance that expanded out to an impossible range.

_Why is it so…_

_Boring?_ Swain finished, peering behind him as he said it. He shrugged as he looked back at me. _Dunno. Just the way it is, I guess. I like it actually. _He nodded, avowing his decision on this.

I didn't want to stare at this dull, boring place. I didn't want to stand here talking to this strange…person, even though I did enjoy his company so far. What I wanted was to get out of here and find a way out and find Geoffrey and return to normal. But what was pulling me down was the rush of drowsiness in my body, the tired feeling spreading through my legs, seizing my muscles to eradicate their firmness…

I dropped to my knees suddenly, and Swain's face steered to find mine, tiny eyes brimmed with a mass of confusion.

_Whoa…what's wrong, El…Ellie?_ He asked quietly, instituting my first-ever nickname as he bent down beside me. I suspected it was because he temporarily forgot what my real name was, but half of me thought he must've done this to everyone. His head bowed close to mine, and I felt comforted—but somehow uneasy—by his closeness. My body was overwrought with exhaustion, explaining the need I felt to just nap and not spill my guts to Swain about everything gushing through me, everything that had been poured into me so easily, like I had been molded into a steep ditch that was open to conflict and emotions that were so dainty they were nearly falsified.

I shook my head and then stood back up, fighting the need to lie down on this high hill. He pestered me with words that my brain couldn't comprehend, which was strange because hearing such things would usually come to me immediately. I wouldn't have to think in order to complete a translation. He seemed desperate to know what was at fault here and kept asking if it was him, but I couldn't answer back. I couldn't do anything…

_Nothing! Nothing's wrong! _I shouted in my thoughts. When I saw him flinch, I remembered how he could hear any direct thoughts I projected. I sounded choked, strangled. Vengeance had climbed its way into my voice and was now hammering through my mind and most likely his as well, echoing with boldness only breakable by another assortment of words that my voice couldn't find or dare to emit. Swain stood beside me, grave in his recognition of my condition.

Apparently, he understood what I was going through. He kept staring at me even when I refused to stare back. I locked my eyes on the ground, agilely running through my thoughts in order to understand the need for this stupid tantrum I was automatically having, and of why I was behaving in such an uncouth, childish fashion. Why was I so tired?

I closed my eyes and felt myself crash to the floor. The substantial ground greeted me harshly, but I accepted it as something similar to tough love, much like the kind Geoffrey delivered in order to cheer me up, by harshly encouraging me.

I was beginning to drift. A weight that was encouraging slumber felt perched on my mind…

Then, I fainted.

I woke up moments later to a light practically blinding me overhead. I sat up slowly, letting my muscles work themselves. I was still in the area—the same, dull area—that was supposedly my new room, sitting atop my new flabby bed. The only difference was Swain wasn't here. I felt more lonesome now that his company had been removed…but it was a feeling that I, surprisingly, didn't mind having.

I stood in a stance that supported me well enough to keep me from falling back to the ground to fall asleep again. I eyed the place carefully and then slid down a hill, aiming with professional precision as I made my turns. I searched endlessly for an exit to discover there was _nothing_ here that would lead to somewhere else or at least another part of the castle. I uttered a noise of frustration and descended down another hill.

_Hey!_

Spinning out of shock, I rammed into one of the hills, falling back. Swain's face appeared above mine with an expression of deep amusement.

_Don't sweat about earlier. It happens,_ Swain assured, as he helped me on my feet.

I really didn't understand what he meant. It seemed like a lot of stuff happened around here, and he offered no explanation behind them unless I asked what he was talking about. _…What happens?_

_Oh, your, uh, pass-out there. Sometimes if we get too much work or not enough energy, we faint. That's why we sleep or hang around the higher Nobodies. They give off lotsa energy._

_Higher Nobodies give off energy?_

_Yeah, 'specially Xemnas and the rest of the Organization._

My head whirled with this new information. Xemnas and the rest of the Organization? That just sounded like a cult. And what did he mean they were higher Nobodies? I knew that Larxene and the rest of them were Nobodies, but how could they look so…human?

I couldn't let the bitterness escape my tone as I brought up the question. _If they're Nobodies, then how can they be humans?_

_Well they look human, right? That just means their Somebodies' hearts were stronger than a lot of other people. If a person's heart is really strong, they have a Nobody that looks human and a lot like their Somebody. And they can remember a lot more. And they get these awesome powers, too,_ he said with a disappointed sigh.

The first thing I gathered from this hit me with a surreal realization. My heart had not been strong enough, which is why I had become a Dusk. And now I had to serve…against my will…to a person I hated with all of my being…

This was so frustrating that I wanted to scream. I didn't realize I was actually doing it inside my head until I saw Swain cringe and rapidly wave one of his arms.

_H-hey! Cool it!_

I stopped and placed an arm to my woozy head. _Sorry. It just sucks knowing that…I wasn't a strong person._

He made a face. _Yeah, it sucked when I got that, too, but I got over it. It happens._ He strode past me, swinging his arms by his sides. _I like to think that I wasn't the weak one. It was my Somebody that was. His name was Swain, too. I used to remember a lot about him…but I'm forgetting lotsa stuff now. He seemed pretty strong to me._ He shrugged.

Somebody…

Ramus had mentioned the other side of a person was a Nobody. Was I…another side…to myself? To…Eloise?

No, that was impossible. _I _was Eloise. No one else was Eloise. I'm Eloise.

…But something seemed so wrong with saying that. It didn't seem right in admitting who I really was…Was I really…me?

Swain must've sensed my panic because he bored his eyes into mine and asked softly, _You okay?_

I shook my head, looking past him when replying. _Are you saying…that I'm just a part of Eloise? That I'm not the original Eloise? That I'm not _me_?_

He seemed to waver, realizing how crazy this comprehension was making me. He spoke in a comforting tone—one that only shriveled my nerves and tore most of them to the surface, to where I had grown to a higher level of alarm. I assumed he couldn't shelter his honesty or he just really sucked at lying so he didn't bother trying to formulate any sort of deceit. _Uh…yeah…_

I shook my head continuously, and he bowed his head sympathetically, no doubt thinking I was in denial.

_I'm Eloise. I'm no one else but me. I may be a Nobody…and I may look different…but I'm not somebody else. I'm not a part of someone else. I'm Eloise, I'm me, and no one can replace me_, I objected detestably, nearly hissing at him.

Again, he took things quite nicely. He seemed to be so understanding for someone so strange and laidback. He half-smiled and nodded, accepting my intolerance of the matter. He had probably gone through the same phase, I guessed, but this wasn't a phase for me. I was going to remain thinking this way and believe above anything else I was who I was. I would not forget. I wasn't going to forget anything.

I peered at him kindly to fool him into thinking I had just skipped over my "denial" of the matter. _Why do you think we forget?_

_I don't think we do; I know we do. I experienced it myself._ He sighed and sat down, stretching out his limbs. _I don't know all the reasons, but I think it may have something to do with the way we are. As Dusks, we're weak, so we listen to anything anyone more powerful than us says. I guess the reason we forget is 'cause…we're just that weak. Laurent said something about us having a low life expectancy, while higher Nobodies get to live longer. Well, I haven't seen a Dusk die from natural causes…but then again, I've only been here for six months._

So I had been given a new life that was coupled with a supposed low life expectancy. Fantastic. I guess my disappointment was evident because Swain began to wave his arms in a reassuring notion.

_But don't worry! I really don't think we'll die that soon. Besides, we got more opportunities, right? We're servants to strong Nobodies. If we don't survive—erm, live longer than the others, then…we gotta fight back._ He managed a smile, but the sight of his zippered teeth pulling upward just rattled me.

I looked away, briefly, and shifted to strengthen my suddenly shaking limbs. I hated everything about this place…and the more I looked at it, the more the frustration—though defused—bubbling from inside me grew. I wanted to yell. I wanted to clobber or stab something with my sharp arms…but I didn't find the courage to victimize anything other than myself at the moment. So I remained sitting on the ground in front of Swain, wanting to hit something…or even kill myself. But I was confused. I needed to stay alive to find Geoffrey and to possibly become my old self again. Yet, I found myself wondering how staying alive would show any promise to me. I couldn't find Geoffrey if I served Larxene…unless the people in this place found Geoffrey on their own. So, for now, I would have to remain in this hellish place and relish any hope I had of becoming my old self and finding Geoffrey.

Swain asked me a couple times what was wrong, but I guess he didn't bother anymore when I didn't reply. I lifted myself up after taking his offered hand, avoiding eye contact. I could feel another one of his questions coming on, or more likely another random saying to start a conversation, so I quickly spoke up.

_How do we get out of here?_

_Oh, that's easy! Portaling is the easiest way. If you wanna make it hard, you'd have to…uhh…divide yourself or something…_ He dipped his head in humiliation when he noticed my baffled look. _I don't really know the other way. Laurent told me something about it, but I forgot. He was being too intelligent—which I guess makes sense with him belonging to Vexen and all._ He sighed and ambled past me, holding up an arm to the air. A faint, nearly undetectable beam of darkness shot out from his hand and engulfed the air, devouring its existence in order to take its place. The large dark portal that I had seen in the past greeted me now and tugged strongly towards my exhausted body, almost pulling me immediately toward its core. Swain strode past me and gestured. _Ladies first._

Nodding, I walked past him into the waiting portal. There were no significant changes at first. The scene of my new room was swallowed by the blackness I had entered and strained into a dimension of nonexistence. I closed my eyes tightly, fearing what would happen. For awhile, nothing did. Coldness that couldn't be defined or described to be a breeze just catapulted my body and then seeped into the inside of it until the nothingness of my being became bizarrely invaded. I released a shriek that revealed how unexpected the swift change in temperature was before something shook my shoulder, and I opened my eyes to discover that I was out of the portal, as well as out of the infinite room.

The place I was now in was the same hallway I had traveled through before—the hallway that had Larxene's room.

In other words, I was on Death Row.

I clambered around the corner as I heard an almost silent scuttling of feet behind me. I turned to see Swain, following curiously.

_Where are you going?_

_Away from here,_ I replied, taking note of Larxene's room at the far end. If I could just run a little bit faster…

Swain snorted. _Is it 'cause Larxene is here?_

_She's _here_? _Shit. I knew she had to be close. I had to get away. She could sense fear…

_Not here here. Her room is, but I bet she's with Marluxia. They're close. That, or…taunting Demyx,_ he added with a heated sigh.

Obviously, the people he had mentioned were residents of this place and were most likely masters to Dusks that were assigned to be their servants. Swain had mentioned something of this Demyx person being his master and had even mentioned something of the other Dusks. I just couldn't remember most of what he said…

I recollected snippets of our conversation. Part of what he had said hit me in a quick memory, and I repeated it as more of a question than a statement.

_The Organization._

_Eh?_ He looked at me while power-walking close to my side.

_You said something about Xemnas and the Organization…Are they—these people…um, Nobodies—a cult?_ I questioned.

He snorted again. For him it was what I considered to be more of a nerdy habit rather than a derisive one. _A cult? Well, depends on how you look at it I guess. Yeah, they're Nobodies…and they're led by Xemnas. He created the Organization, the cloaks…He even made this place. _And_ he recruited all the members. Well, actually, some of the other members found members…but bottom line he found the idea._

_The whole reason Xemnas created the Organization was to regain his heart. He wants to contact Kingdom Hearts because he thinks it can get his heart back. Kingdom Hearts is supposed to be _really_ powerful._

So this…foundation's sole purpose was to regain their hearts. They desperately missed being able to feel it seemed. I could understand that. After all, I supposedly had no heart anymore. But who discovered that Nobodies didn't have hearts? Who declared that hearts held the feeling to a person? Wasn't it plausible to say that a mind was the part to hold the emotions? I felt I could still feel, and with my mind intact, it all made sense. A person didn't need a heart to feel.

But I was getting ahead of myself. Without a heart, how could I still be alive? There was no inferring anything with this body—with this existence. For now, I would remain undecided and believe only what I wished to believe: that I still had a heart.

_What is Kingdom Hearts?_ I asked, as I came back to reality.

_A _big_ place,_ Swain answered with an expression of deep deliberation. He quickly rushed into a more prepared answer after I gave him a look of inquiry. _It's a place that requires a lot of…uhh…stuff in order to get. It's what will give everyone back their hearts._

_Don't the Heartless have our hearts though? _I inquired, recalling what Ramus had once told me.

_Well…yeah, but if they're ever destroyed, the hearts they have are released to Kingdom Hearts. They're just waiting to get snatched back, _he finished. _But to get to Kingdom Hearts, you have to release hearts through a weapon called the Keyblade. It's the only thing that can make hearts be released from Heartless to Kingdom Hearts._

I wondered why he didn't mention this first of all, but I let it go, deciding that he was a little bit scatterbrained and indecisive. Some of what he was saying was sounding familiar to me now—especially the part about the _Keyblade_. Where had I heard that word before?

_Does the Organization have the Keyblade?_

_Huh? Nah. Xemnas wants it though. He talks about it a lot. I heard them talking about a Keyblader once. Dora, or something. It's like a big giant key, _he said, widening his arms for better emphasis. _That cuts, _he added quickly.

This should've sounded foreign to me, but it just didn't. I couldn't pinpoint its familiarity. But it was just too…too—

_Swain!_

This new voice was gruff, though it had a certain blend of kindness that made whoever the person was seem dependable. Swain was already greeting the stranger when I turned to look at him.

It was another Dusk of course, but for some reason he seemed taller and well-built in comparison to me and Swain. Strangely, he had muscle, enough to give him towering bulk. However, his thinness only made him seem smaller. His height made up for most of it, I suppose, since he still looked incredibly large—though not in the hulking sort of way. He was originally looking at Swain, but he found my eyes soon. The dark glint in them was ethereal, unveiling a menace that only longed to hide itself in the most shadowy ridges of his mind, into a shelter of secrecy…

I guessed this new Dusk noticed me trembling because he forced a grin. It never matched his eyes and the sudden blankness now engraved in them. Everything about him seemed all wrong.

_Eloise, this is Price,_ Swain introduced, not seeing my frazzled state.

_Hey, back off. I can introduce myself, kid,_ the Dusk said in a laidback-boorish voice, sounding almost polite in being so rude. Price's eyes weighed on mine. I forced myself to not flinch. _Larxene's servant. Guess this means you're a goner._ He shot a look at Swain as his vibe implied he was about to speak. _Lying won't make things better, kid, and you know you're just as honest as I am._

_Y-yeah, but I already mentioned Larxene's a psycho…and Benny…_ Swain coughed, as if to cover up the last of his sentence.

_Benny._ Price grinded his foot into the ground. _He was a good buddy. A traitorous one…but still good._ His head jerked to stare directly at mine. _So how long have you been awake? I know you fainted, but it's been a ways, and I've been spending my time with Xigbar._ All of sudden, his hand twitched, and his arm jiggled in response, followed by a strange jerk from his leg. It was weird seeing this. I didn't know why that was happening to him or if he was doing it purposely. From his agitated look, it probably wasn't forced.

_She got up a little while ago,_ Swain answered for me.

_Okay. By the way, Swain, if I was talking to you, I would've said your name,_ Price said coolly.

Swain chattered his zippered teeth. _I know, Price. Do you have a hangover or something?_

I wanted to question if Dusks could even have hangovers when Price shrugged.

_Duh. Leave me be, m'kay? _He acknowledged me with a nod and swooped past us, knocking his head every now and then with an arm as he walked. That was just strange…

I watched him leave and stared at Swain. _Dusks can have hangovers?_

Swain nodded with an oddly serious attitude. _Yeah. Price discovered this. He really loved alcohol when he was whole, but I guess he couldn't be called an alcoholic until he became a Dusk. Apparently, lower Nobodies like us can get drunk off potions._

_Aren't they used to heal people though?_

_Yeah, but they can't be used on us. Some other special medicine has to be used because our bodies can't handle the ailments used on normal beings. Potions apparently taste exactly like alcohol, but I never tried it. Price is addicted, and when he has hangovers he gets real grouchy. He told me that when Dusks get hangovers it's not painful, it's just that they make us hurt ourselves. The bigger the hangover, the more he can't control his limbs. So he randomly hits himself, and _that_ makes him hurt. The hangover also causes changes in personality. Laurent has been studying into it to get why this happens._

Everything about a Dusk seemed bizarre. Nothing made sense…or maybe it was just that I was too unwilling to comprehend it. I had learned so much already, but I had a feeling that I was beginning to forget them. I would have to ask Swain to refresh me with the details later.

_So where to?_ I asked.

His reply seemed peppier. _Wherever I guess! Neither of our masters wants us right now, but I do wanna see Demyx. Whaddya say? Wanna meet him?_

_Sure…_

_Unless you don't want to_, he said with a frown. _If not, then we can just go explore other parts of the castle…Anything else you wanna know? How about a tour?_

I shrugged, and he took that as a yes.

_Great! Maybe we'll see others along the way. Follow me._ Like a bullet, he soared past me, and stopped only to gesture to the side. _This is the first Hall of Empty Melodies. It's connected to Twilight's View and Naught's Skyway, but besides being a passage it also has a path that connects to the big-shot Nobody rooms. Their rooms are down that way—_he pointed to where we had been before—_and they have Division Two, but they're called the neophytes by other ranks. Basically, the members of Eight through Twelve are Division Two. The hall leading to their rooms is hidden by the decorations, but we can see it easily with our vision. The rooms of members Two through Seven—Division One—are located at a different part of the castle. Xemnas—Number One—has his own room in a pretty separate location._

I absorbed this information as he summarized it. Then he leapt past me, jogging onto a path that would lead to the place he called _Naught's Skyway._ I followed as best as I could and studied the familiar hallway we entered next, with faintly-toned purple-based tiles and gray carvings snaking a position into the curving walls. Everything looked pretty structured and held a sort of data, computer-based theme that went against the usual milky texture I had seen of the castle. Swain described the place to be merely a passage as he clambered upward, arching his feet as he walked.

We traveled a ways. Swain stopped more than once to offer descriptions of each place. I listened with one ear and focused mainly on my thoughts, comparing areas to previous ones we had traveled through. Our tour was going past its middle stages when Swain froze at the entrance to a new area, battening his body in an immovable position.

I peeked at Swain. I was half-considering turning around and running back because of how bored I was feeling with the tour. The place was grand, but the designs were starting to seem dull. I had been in awe just a moment ago; now I was just yawning.

Worriedly, I nudged him. _Swain?_

His fragmented attention morphed into a type of wholeness, and he lifted his thoughts to lay a quick glance at me.

_Oh s-sorry. This place gives me the creeps._

I didn't know what he meant or why this area would give him the creeps. Looking past him, the place looked harmless, rising to a higher elevation with blue-hued obtuse signs built into the ground. There twelve of them and all of them glowed blue. The effulgence from the signs was seeping into the ground and flowed through the floor like blood through veins, causing the entire room to look irradiated. I walked past Swain—who was tergiversating, like he really wanted to take a different path—and examined the twelfth sign, reading words that had been engraved in its gelled surface.

"_Savage Nymph"_

I stared blankly, not quite sure what to gather from this.

_It's a graveyard,_ Swain said quietly from behind me, lingering in the entrance.

I didn't quite grasp this fact until I saw how the signs' shapes fit that of a grave. Curiously, I looked at the grave next to the twelfth and read the engraving.

"_Graceful Assassin"_

_A graveyard for who?_ Or what, I wanted to add, but I was continuing through the lit graves, reading the inscriptions.

"_Gambler of Fate"_

"_Melodious Nocturne"_

"_Flurry of Dancing Flames"_

The list continued as I maneuvered through the rows.

_They're for the members of the Organization. Blue means they're alive. Red means dead,_ Swain answered. By this time he had finally made his way into the room and had bent to examine one of the lambent graves.

_Why is there a graveyard?_ I asked as I arrived at the top. I looked back from my heightened position, blinded by a conglomerate of blue light. When I looked away, my vision was outlined with a ring of blue, like the light had attached itself to my eyes.

_I don't know. I heard it was a special addition of Xemnas's. It was his idea._

Why would a leader want to install a graveyard? To keep track of his employees? To identify who's who? That came off as strange to me, and I realized that I had joined Swain in the reaction of this place giving me the creeps.

_What's more is that he seems really fond of this place,_ Swain noted and then shut off his thoughts, practically ripping the connection we shared to communicate. The action made him seem even more tentative, like he had just gained a phobia.

Wondering why he did so and why he seemed so shrunken all of sudden, I turned…and saw why.

Another Dusk had entered the room and was situated in the corner. He was particularly tall but wasn't as tall as Price had been. He had the same bulk Price had as well in structure, but for some reason his muscles seemed more broad and evident, almost as if he worked out intensively. Since his teeth looked clenched and his forehead looked darkened where his skin folded, he looked quite menacing. I could see his black eyes more clearly from such a distance—most likely because I could identify where the eyes were now—and they were staring murderously at Swain, like he committed a horrible crime.

_Swain, I've been looking for you._ The voice was low, intimidating, and unkind.

Swain was squirming as soon as he saw the Dusk, and the fear that had once been so demure rose to the surface, raising Swain's voice at least an octave. He stared at the Dusk like he was the one sentencing him to death. _B-B-Blaco._

_You owe me, Swain,_ Blaco breathed threateningly. His eyes challenged mine as I glanced his way then he focused his attention to the grave in front of him. He didn't bother to look at it for long. He traveled past the rows until he came across the third grave from the top. This one he examined longingly, the glow making his flesh both dull and brighten as the shadows and the light tossed themselves against his shelled body.

_How I wish he'd just die,_ he said distastefully. He peered at Swain, making him cringe.

_I…owe you…?_ Swain sounded fearful, but I guessed he was too curious as to how he was in debt that he didn't hold back any questions.

_It doesn't matter._ Blaco stared at me now with eyes that should've been ruby to match the rage he exuded—the hatred that beckoned challenges and trouble from the very root of his presence.

_B-but I'm giving a tour,_ Swain said pleadingly.

Swain was defenseless; he was simply too weak to throw anything at Blaco that could've been offensive or hurtful. Blaco was being unreasonable and inconsiderate, and although I barely knew him or what he had done for Swain to put him in debt, I believed he was also very wrong. This had to end before it got worse.

I stepped forward. _I'm new. Swain is just showing me around. I'm Eloise._

Blaco glowered at me. _I know._ His eyes flared at Swain. _Get someone else to give her the tour. You're booked._

_Why are you doing this to him? Does he _have_ to help you?_ I snapped bravely. His attitude was just completely unnecessary. In a few ways, it reminded me of Geoffrey's…but Blaco's was too smoldering and hateful. Geoffrey's had been at least tolerable enough to lecture out of him.

Blaco seemed to think my words were brave too because his eyes scorched mine. For a second I thought the fire in them had been extinguished, but I saw how impossible that seemed now. His rage was so deeply riveted that it was permanent.

Surprisingly, the stubborn Dusk protested no further. Blaco arced.

_Later, Swain. You will see me much later whether you want to or not._ He exited without a second glance.

Swain was genuinely surprised that Blaco had cut him some slack too—and way too thrilled. Blaco's departure, however, didn't mop his reluctance to leave or even shake him in the slightest. He had been shaking too much when Blaco had been in the room to waste his time shaking after he had left anyway. Swain quickly sliced the air with one of his pincers, exposing a portal that seemed like it had been hiding.

_Uh, what are you doing?_

_Hiding. This tour is officially on pause,_ he announced, before gesturing determinedly at the mass of darkness. _Don't stop! We have to get out of here before he gets the nerve to come back!_

Understandingly, I dove into the portal. Somehow, however, I couldn't help thinking that Swain's definition of hiding was more similar to hibernating.

By entering the portal, I was greeted by the other side, just falling out of reach of catching myself. I landed on the ground harshly before standing up. I was going to examine my surroundings and get a bearing on where Swain had decided to go when a figure standing in front startled me.

Looking up unsteadily, I came in contact with a mirroring face that looked almost exactly like mine, but thinner, with somehow bonier features. The Dusk that stood before me was lean but could've been taller for the lithe, model-like features they seemed to sustain. There was some personalization of this Dusk that I had yet to see from other people. They were actually wearing a cuff-like bracelet on their arm and had a strapping red barrette attached to the sides of the emblem, almost as if they were trying to tie back invisible hair. Seeing the accessories were odd for some reason…and made me giggle in a peculiarly psychotic fashion.

The Dusk blinked, much to my altered and bubbly amusement.

I felt like I was floating.

Swain's spluttering from behind just made me laugh harder. I was keeping the noises in my head, being so cautious as to literally zip my mouth shut.

Swain arrived in my vision, standing awkwardly beside the new Dusk.

_Uhh…you okay, Ellie?_ He was surveying me with a humored expression.

_We get a new one in a long time—a _girl _at that—and she happens to be a total loon,_ the prim, sinuous female voice breathed from ahead of me. _Loon. _God, why was that word so _funny_?

Swain paused, as if to sniff the air. _Caravel, are you wearing some kind of perfume?_

The girl Dusk, obviously pleased by his noticing, perked up. _Yes, actually. That's probably what's making her so high._ She joined in with my laughter for a moment and then sighed. _I remember when I first came here. My senses were sensitive to everything, like hers is now. I forgot what effect perfume had on me as well. Don't worry, your ducts will adjust,_ she added to me, nearly standing on her tiptoes to get a full glimpse of my no-doubt delirious expression.

Ducts? The term made me laugh harder, my whole body keeling on the floor. Note to self: Stay away from perfume.

In the meanwhile Swain and Caravel carried a conversation, humorously pointing out my strangely drunk personality at the moment and discussing things I couldn't recognize through my crazed and constant laughter. After a long time, I calmed down. Caravel and Swain stopped waving their arms, which had probably been an effort to evaporate some of the perfume, explaining why I was suddenly back to normal.

I stood dizzily. Swain stooped to assist me, while Caravel stood back, watching me with almost shifty eyes.

_What just happened?_ I asked, focusing blearily on Caravel's amused face.

_My perfume had a big effect on you,_ she said.

_We take in scents with ducts. These ducts help us 'smell,' but it's not normal 'cause we can't smell like we used to. Ducts are scattered on some parts of our body—I forgot where—and they kinda act like a sense of smell. But we can't really smell stuff immediately. Our bodies can, but it'll take time before we know that we're even smelling anything. New Dusks have better senses because they're brand new and younger. You were really sensitive to that perfume, and taking in an aroma like that makes Dusks pretty…high_, Swain elaborated. _The high factor is just for perfume though. Breathing anything else probably won't be too big._

I nodded. Caravel stared at me with iron eyes. The hardness of her expression wasn't what was so uncomfortable; it was how she probed me with her eyes that made our stare-down so unnerving. She was searching me.

She stepped forward and curtsied, bending her legs so irregularly that they looked sickeningly rubbery. _Caravel. Please don't think I was mocking your expense; that's Kal's job. Your situation just reminded me of when I first became a Dusk. It was surely the most entertainment I've gotten in a long time._

I felt like pointing out how she still took some enjoyment in my drunken behavior, but I kept to myself.

_Eloise,_ I introduced, bothering my stance with a stiff curtsy. I assumed Caravel was nuts for posture because the look she cast was one of slight disapproval. It felt like she was going to comment on it (most likely correctively), but she tilted her head away, flashing a mischievous expression at Swain instead. This muddled him for some reason, driving him into a stammering outbreak.

_W-what?_

_Felt like being a coward, did you?_ She winked at him playfully. The normally flirtatious and alluring act looked just plain disgusting on a Dusk, I thought, but Caravel seemed to pull it off well enough. Though nearly half of her head wrinkled from just the single movement of her eye, it didn't seem to lack normality. _Blaco's been chasing after you, and you just coincidentally show up here._

Swain grinned sheepishly. _It's _Blaco._ Can't really blame a guy for running away, right? Speaking of which, why isn't he outta here? Xaldin's doing missions today. Shouldn't Blaco be with him?_

She shook her head. _Nope. You'd think that'd be the case, but it's not. Apparently, Xaldin and Blaco got into another battle, and Xaldin requested him away for the day. Luxord didn't want me today either because he got pulled for some big action. I assume that's the same for you and Demyx?_

Swain stretched his arms behind his head. _Nah. Demyx has just been off on his own. He said I could do whatever I wanted for the day._

Caravel smirked out of amusement and little surprise. _Of course _Demyx _isn't doing anything. He hardly does a thing. No offense, _she added, as Swain seemed like he was swelling a bit in defense of the subject. _The only member that isn't really out doing missions is Axel. No one else—besides Saix and Xemnas, who don't normally do missions anyway, and Demyx, of course—is here. I've been bored, so I've been looking for Kal all day. You seen him?_

I continued to listen to the conversation despite my stable cluelessness. This was what I determined to be the gist of the conversation. The members of the Organization had missions, or basically tasks they had to complete. A member from the Organization named Luxord was, from the sound of things, Caravel's master. The same went for Blaco's master, whom I assumed was this Xaldin person they were talking about.

Swain scratched his head. _Kalmerir? Yeah, saw him this morning, I think…He was with Axel. He's been hanging with him all day. Seemed really important to him somehow. I saw them talking with Larxene._ He glimpsed at me. _I saw them just before I met up with Eloise. My bets are Kal's still with Axel._

Caravel sighed and fiddled with the cuff on her arm. _I wanted to talk to him about something…Oh well. Do you think Axel would pardon Kal?_

_Well, it's possible. Axel's pretty cool._

Caravel smirked. I raised an eyebrow as I saw her sly look. _Not as cool as Luxord._

Swain grinned back, laying out his side of the debate that Caravel had initiated. _Demyx _owns.

I looked away as they seemed to glance uncertainly in my direction. I had no say in the argument, mainly because I had nothing to argue about. Larxene was my master, and I hated her based on the one day I'd known her. Not only was she a bitch, but she was a bitch from _hell._ Whoever had dug her up and swabbed her from the fiery pits was someone I planned on adding to my hit list after I checked Larxene off it. God, this experience was already causing me to formulate a hit list. When had I gotten so violent? Since Larxene. That's when. And the most depressing bit of information was that it was far from over. There were many days to come. There were many days for Larxene to torture me…

_Larxene's not here today,_ Swain said, not only lunging me out of my thoughts but adding long awaited and desperate relief to them. _She's out on a mission with some of the other members._

This news was good. No, it was more than good. It was splendid. This meant I was free. I was free for the day. _For the day._ The phrase was still enough to make me smile—a genuine, legitimate smile that not only made my muscles relax but caused Swain to smile back as he noticed there was no real hesitation in it like previous times. Caravel was still smirking, but it fit her so well that I guessed it was natural for her to present such an expression.

I didn't rejoice yet, however. _When will she be back? _And is there something I can do so that she'll _never_ come back?

Swain shrugged. _It could be at any time. It depends on when the members finish their mission and how fast they complete it. Larxene usually doesn't take too long._

Damn. So I didn't have enough time to be _alone._ Caravel's smirk deepened at my grimace.

_You should hurry along before she comes back._

_Yeah, I think I'll do that, _I muttered. Swain filled in my pause with words that I had been hoping to hear.

_You can go on your own if you want; do some exploring. _He cocked his head at my extended pause.

_Are there places I should…watch out for?_ I asked.

He must've known what I was saying: places I needed to avoid, in case Larxene came back. If there was a place I could use to be alone, I needed it.

Caravel answered quickly. _Don't go far from here. You can't really leave the castle without your master's permission anyway. There are some places you can hang out in in the meantime. Most of the Organization members are out for the day, so I don't think there will be many occupied rooms…_

I nodded and moved forward as Caravel stepped to the side. _Thank you, Swain, for the tour. It was nice meeting both of you. I'll meet up with you two later, I promise._

Caravel grinned. _Take your time. Freedom is hard to obtain on such rare moments such as these._

I thanked her and strode off down the hall. I turned so much that it seemed like I was going in a circle, but I realized that the castle had the same kind of theme in many different parts. At this point, as I turned down _another_ hallway, I concluded I was lost. _Really_ lost.

There many things running through my head to occupy me in the meantime as I came to the conclusion that I was lost. The Organization, Xemnas, Larxene...Geoffrey…Everyone was tied together, and everything that had been explained to me at this point was starting to make a little sense. There were some farfetched bits, however. How could hearts hold the emotion of a person? How could someone not have emotions and a heart that supposedly holds these emotions? How could they—the Dusks—live like this? How did this all happen? Were Heartless real? Nobodies?

My mind skipped back to the night of when Geoffrey had come to my house in a rush. He had said…that Relena was acting quite strange. She had said some strange things, including inquiring about me. But what struck me as just plain odd was when she had said that it wasn't just her day of birth…but it was his.

What did she mean by that? What did it all mean?

I began to think that she wouldn't have said something so strange without a valid reason. Was she…warning him? She was certainly telling him something quite important…or maybe she was just trying to confuse him. For it to be his day of birth…he would have to be starting a new life, being born as...

…a Nobody, a Heartless.

Was that what they had intended? I shriveled up angrily at the thought of it and remembered some things that I had overheard Larxene discussing with the Organization.

"_The Superior told me that I could finish this mission…by taking his heart and bringing what's left of him to us."_

Of course! How had I overlooked it? How had I not realized it? Was my mind really dulling that much to have easily swooped over that part of Larxene's tale?

"_He was at his friend's—Eloise's, house, so I dispatched some Heartless and watched to make sure he received the proper fate."_

That wasn't right. He _had_ been at my house…but why did she wait? He had been with her before. With me there, it would've been more conflicting to take his heart. Why had she decided to wait?

I shook my head. She didn't wait. She never _did_ wait. Something must've happened. Something must've prevented her from taking his heart during the period that she had been with him. Otherwise, she would've had him.

Afterwards, Larxene had mentioned me getting taken instead of Geoffrey because he had run away. She tried going after him, but he had, according to Larxene, disappeared.

…Maybe that one person was right. Maybe Larxene had gotten a soft spot for Geoffrey. Maybe she had really…started liking him and was doing everything in her power to guarantee his safety.

I snorted. Yeah, right! She's a violent psychopath. There was no way she would be merciful, least of all to Geoffrey by the way she was talking about him.

The only way, I concluded, I was going to receive the answers was if I talked to Larxene. She had the answers; all I needed to do was get them. The problem was she probably wouldn't even answer any of my questions. She would probably hit me or change the subject or do anything to not give me what I wanted. Also, considering that I seriously pissed her off with talking aloud to Marluxia, she really wasn't going to help me in anyway.

I sighed. I would wait a while. I would wait for as long as I needed to. Maybe it would be okay to ask her as soon as she's cooled down. Whatever it took, I was going to get those answers.

I made a right turn, wondering when Larxene would return. It was then that I entered a room I recognized. Mirrors were placed cordially on the walls of the room, making me realize I had used this room before to discover what I really looked like. I leapt forward to close in on my reflection and stared at myself. Oh boy. I was ug-_ly._ I wondered what Geoffrey would say if he saw me. He would probably tease me…or look away in disgust.

I sighed. I wish he was here. I wish I could see him. _Hear_ him. Anything!

"Hey."

My whole body stiffened. That had to be a part of my imagination, right? My desperation was rising so much that it was causing me to manifest hallucinations to satisfy my desires and needs. That had to be it. Yet, I found myself wondering why Geoffrey's voice came from _outside_ of my mind. Well, wasn't that how hallucinations worked?

I looked up unsteadily to stare into air. I checked the mirrors to see if anything else was there and stepped back. Maybe I should go back to Swain and Caravel. They seemed nice enough. I could use some company rather than wishing impossibly for some miracle.

I turned slowly, somehow reluctant to leave. I hated staring at myself, but the main reason why I wanted to stay was that I was strongly hoping that what I had heard had been real, that Geoffrey was hiding somewhere in the room and that he would pop out at any given moment.

If only that were real…

I sunk down until I was sitting on the floor, staring miserably at my reflection. Damn it. Why couldn't I cry? Why was everything so empty? Why did I have to search so far inside myself just to touch my anger?

I forcibly sniffled and left my mind blank. I didn't want to think anymore…

I didn't know how long I sat there, but I stared at many things. I stared at my reflection, then the outline of the mirrors, then the floor. I kept trying to cry, going so far as to peck my eyes with my hands and stopping shortly so that the pain could fade before I tried again. Nothing worked. I wanted so badly to prove them wrong, to show that I was capable of _feeling_. This was something I strongly believed.

But I didn't have much time to stay there, because something snagged my attention. Specifically, a whistle.

In an instance, I was up on my feet and sprinting toward the entrance.

Larxene was back. My freedom was over. My misery was only going to increase.

…Or so I thought.

* * *

**Hasn't anyone else noticed that the endings to the chapters always has _something_ to do with Larxene? First it was Relena, then it was Larxene ordering her around, and lastly it was Larxene's return. Dang. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading the chapter, and thank you for taking the time to read it! The next chapter will hopefully be up sooner than this one was.**


	4. Four

**Update, update, update. How I dreamed this day would come. And now that it has...you all want to kill me for waiting for so long to put it up. I _know _the chapter took forever to finish, and for that I am _so, SO _sorry. Next time I won't wait so long to put it up. There were some parts, however, that were bothering me about it...But now that the troubles have been cleared, I think it's at least satisfactory. In this chapter, you get a view of some things that were a little bit 'behind-the-scenes' of Organization XIII, as well as an update on what's happening in Eloise's life. I'm sure you'll notice some changes that occurred, personality-wise, to some of the Dusks. I apologize for the length and just how long it took me to put this chapter up. (It really took a long time...)**

**Thank you to Cori Shadowfang, Princess of Rose, and WarriorFan523 for reviewing the last chapter! You people make my day! :)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Kingdom Hearts.**

* * *

**Four**

_Smash._

Though it sounded like something had dived against the wall and had caused plenty of damage to jettison as a bruise to the attacker, the wall I was leaning against was not tremulous in response, like I _thought_ it would be. Then again, I thought many things once before that seemed silly now. Like getting _bruises_, for example. My new body couldn't receive bruises, but whenever it received a blow, the skin fluctuated in the stricken place, like the nerves were having some spastic retreat and became unfettered and squirmy from the contact. And the _pain_. I couldn't forget the pain. Before, when I had actually been human—or more appropriately, _whole_, as it's commonly referred to around here—I had been so sensitive to pain, but _this_ was even more derogatory. The pain would form welts on my guttered skin, an excrescence that would make people assume I had been murderously mauled by an entire army of extremely pissed off wasps. To put it simply, the pain I had tried to rebuff but ended up soaking in over the last couple days of my so-far stay had chalked up enough physical agony to put me in near-tears.

Catch that? _Near-tears. _Not _actual _tears. Ostensibly, I had no emotions. _Still_. I had been here for five days, and I hadn't felt even a feigning hint of emotion. Sometimes there would be the dispassionate morass of energy bulling up from inside me to make me _think_ I was feeling something, but I never was.

_Ya never will. It's the truth, so might as well drink up, _Price had told me just two days after I had met him, when I had been slouching against the wall in a pitying, maudlin fashion. And then he took a swig of a potion—the potion that he confirmed to me had been apart of his secret stash before he uncorked the thing because it was "giving him the kind of silent treatment that he can't damned stand." He apparently has to keep one because there are certain members that are trying to delude him of his drinking habit, efforts that he finds "annoyingly stupid and stupidly annoying." I usually just shrug it off uncaringly, telling him that he can do whatever he wants in front of me because it doesn't matter. He thankfully accepts this and refers to me as one of the Safe Ones because I let him off the hook time and time again and don't scold, lecture, or judge him for drinking.

I always have to ask: Who can blame him?

I say this because there's nothing _good_ to this new life—at least so far. The company I had gathered was really fulfilling, however, in means of friendliness and understanding. I had only met five Dusks while I had been here—Ramus, Swain, Caravel, Price, and Blaco—and _most_ of them had been caringly affable to me, though a few were becoming quite…cloy, by overdoing their kindness and making me wearisome.

Ramus wasn't one I came in contact with much, and any time I _did_ meet him he was in the middle of doing a task. There had actually been one time in the hall when I had paused to talk to him and he waved me off like I was nothing but a loitering, bothersome fly that was infesting his air and time. Swain explained to me that he always gave everybody the cold shoulder and only when Zexion wasn't around or didn't need him was when he was actually willing to spare some talk. Apparently, my first encounter with him had been a rare case because he had been quite…well, not _gregarious_, but definitely word-worthy at the time.

I was informed that Caravel was quite the sly one. She enjoyed playing tricks on people, Swain told me, but I had yet to see her let loose with any of the vindictive pranks he kept mentioning. Mostly she joked around and did a lot of curious observing with the trained eye of a vigil. She talked to me when she was near, though I couldn't really see her much since she was always with her master, Luxord. She seemed nice, distantly so compared to Swain, but friendly nevertheless. There were still some things I had yet to uncover about her, but I conjectured that she was more of a criminalist than she was letting on.

As for Swain, he was a loyal comrade, in the clingy-vine, there's-no-way-I'm-leaving-you-alone-unless-absolutely-necessary-so-don't-try-to-bat-me-off-because-I'm-as-good-as-a-freaking-repellant-and-a-stubborn-cockroach-looking-for-some-decent-food sort of way. For the time I had been here, he had been my advisor, explainer, friend, and biggest nuisance—next to Larxene, of course. Don't get me wrong. I don't mean any offense when I say it. It's just that he's sort of like that one puppy featured every now and again in novels or movies—the puppy that will always fetch the ball once you've thrown it, and habitually retrieve it, so that no matter how much you throw the ball he'll always retrieve it and _never go away. _Not even for a second. Swain's a helpful steed, but it's almost as if no space or privacy is allowed with him. Caravel explained to me while he had been off with Demyx that he's a real people-pleaser and the approved welcome-wagon when it comes to newcomers. He had, apparently, done the same thing to the Dusks that had arrived after he had. All it involved in getting him away was the arrival of a new person or a thorough talk that would silence him for a while.

Price. Price was…yeah. I didn't have much to say about Price. Whenever I saw him, he was really grumpy, which I knew was an alteration to his personality because it was one of the effects he had of being drunk all the time. That, and he was _always_ hitting himself. There had actually been a time when seeing him hit himself while also insulting me had been funny and made me burst into a spout of uncontrollable giggles, reminding me of that other time when I had been sensitively exposed to Caravel's perfume. After that encounter with him, I realized that I had inured with Price and adjusted to him in a kindred sort of way. I could understand him, and as long as I could, he could tolerate me. However, there was something unpleasant about him that I still couldn't decode, like the ideas and the thoughts of _what_ was bothering me was set ajar in my head but shaken into an impossible scramble of riddling words that I'd never be able to comprehend no what matter how much I mulled over their puzzling formation. Overall, decent guy, aside from being drunk all the time. I wondered what he was like sober.

Blaco, the last I recalled of the Dusks I had met so far, was easy to remember and hard to forget, though I'm not going to be elusive to the fact that I did try to suppress him. I just _really_ didn't like him. Whenever I saw him, I felt like I was getting thronged by a spur of thorns that insisted I die pretty freaking fast or be prepared to face a wrath greater than life itself and the surmised nothingness of my body. Exaggeration? No, I kid you not. This was the kind of vibe incrementing whenever I saw him. It was incipient and then swelled so much that I thought the hold of its existence could strangulate me with just one accidental brush of its mitigated air. Crazy? Yes, but that's not the point. _He's _crazy.

Swain informed me of some his crazy stunts, backing up how completely intimidating and deplorable the guy was. I was told that before I had arrived Blaco pretty much went insane twice—the first time when he was introduced to being a Dusk, and the second time was when Benny, the Dusk formerly in place of me, left and committed suicide.

The first time Blaco had gone on a rampage and had attempted several times to kill his master and others. When this didn't work, he went on the weaker of the bunch: the Dusks, his own kind. Though at the time he didn't think of his new species fondly or even considerably (I really couldn't blame the guy). He just wanted to kill something just so that he _could_. He apparently injured this one Dusk so badly at the time that he became blind. He did as much destruction to the castle as he could until being severely punished by Xemnas. Strangely, Xemnas didn't kill him, but apparently the punishment was so bad that he actually attempted suicide. He was saved, of course, and ordered under the watchful eye of Xaldin, which was even worse because he hates Xaldin so much that he must've wished death upon him a thousand times.

The second time, after Benny had committed suicide, nearly the same thing happened, though he tried to _destroy_ Kingdom Hearts (_I have to kill Kingdom Hearts! I have to kill Kingdom Hearts! It's my duty! _Swain had shouted in a mocking impression of Blaco during his enthrallingly crazy moment, even going so far as to wave his arms in an outfitting fashion and stretch his face expressively to match Blaco's. He took his role as a storyteller very seriously.)—the savior to us apparently, the kingdom that the Organization was working to obtain to regain lost hearts.

Blaco seemed like such a bother that it seemed weird that Xemnas hadn't disposed of him long ago. Was Blaco—a Dusk that went off the edge at least twice already—really worth keeping?

I knew that I had stayed at the castle for at least five days now, nearly a week. Swain kept me up to date and showed me around a lot of the time when I became lost, like the loyal puppy I kept imagining him to be. My thoughts had once been so clear on the topic that he had overheard them and laughed, while I spluttered apologetically to excuse my rudeness. As loyal and forgiving as can be, he simpered and assured me too kindly that it was perfectly all right. Price later commented about it through a slosh of potion liquid and dubbed me as an ass for thinking such things and then, when Swain took to retorting to Price's new nickname for me, called Swain by his pre-mentioned nickname: _Swain the Pain in the Ass._

I took to visiting the Organization graveyard a lot, which Caravel told me (Swain swore he never heard of the name before, maybe because he's a shirker to the place, always avoiding it and such.) was called the Proof of Existence. Even though I had first developed chills upon being introduced to the place, overtime I grew fond of it, enjoying its atmosphere and peering at the graves curiously, while peering longingly at Larxene's, hoping, like Blaco had to his master's when I first met him, that she would just die. It was a horrendous thing to wish for, though there wasn't any negligence inside me to make me assume that what I was thinking was wrong until I actually buried myself in the realization of the matter. I felt apostatized, like I had abandoned my body and myself with it. Nevertheless, the realization of how dark I had become did not stop me from praying to see a treacherous red livening Larxene's grave, a bright laser-red that would burn my vision while also sparking a flame of ecstasy at the thought of never having to deal with her again. Though I knew this wouldn't happen (at least, not anytime soon), I kept my hopes alive and never let it cease like the emotions I felt had already slipped away from the start.

Speaking of which, I felt like my emotions had cheated me in the sense that I couldn't even fight for them. They just slipped away without my consent, like getting a head start in race that I couldn't participate in or have a chance of winning, which would make me feel really disappointed, letdown, and bitter if it hadn't been for the fact that the emotions that would've supplied them weren't there. At least…I thought they weren't. I was still thoroughly debating about this with myself and shutting down to anyone with any persuasive tale of the matter. I never denied, however, that I was pretty convinced at this point that the strong possibility of having no emotions—or rather, a _heart_—existed. I was stubborn, though, so I demanded some corroboration—some hard core evidence.

There had actually been one time when I had run into Blaco during one of my trips to the Proof of Existence. He was staring intently at the third grave from the top again (I clarified it to be Xaldin's.), memorizing its every feature, so sharp and intent with his beady eyes that I was almost positive that he was seeing nothing but blue. I wanted to sneak out without creating a disturbance, which was what was bound to happen upon discovering the creep that was still hunting Swain, but he made it quite difficult. He spotted me quickly and didn't keep me out of his view, as if I was some intruder that could only be forced to leave if I was stared at with the harshness that he must have reserved for unwanted nuisances. An _intruder_, as if I was invading _his_ space during _his_ time. I scoffed and strayed to my usual spot, positioning myself at the second to last grave to inspect the already-memorized engravings.

That was another thing I had learned. Apparently, with the Organization's ranks, there were also titles. Larxene's title turned out to be the "Savage Nymph," under the position of the twelfth member, which explained why she had the twelfth grave. The "powers" Swain had once mentioned were specified more clearly when someone informed me that Larxene's controlled the power of lightning. This certainly explained the past encounters I had with her and how sometimes out of nowhere I'd feel electric shocks spiral through my system if I ever did something even remotely displeasing in her eyes. The powers for each and every member were mostly elemental, though I'd only learned a few, including Larxene's, as lightning, Demyx's, as water, and Xigbar's, as space. Considering there were twelve members, I had a lot more to go.

Anyway, over the course of time that I had been here, I had seen an according amount of the Organization members. I certainly hadn't seen all of them since there were so many, but I had at least caught glimpses of the ones that shared the same hall as Larxene's room. Swain referred to the destination containing members numbered Eight through Twelve as Division Two. I had seen practically all members of Division Two. My memory could not place the members' exact appearances, but the encounters I shared with them were unforgettable.

For example, there was a room at the very end of the hall toward the entrance that I automatically knew was Swain's master's room: Demyx. I knew this because just the next day of me meeting Swain Larxene had a furious tirade and ran down the hall with such speed that you'd assume she was on fire and was hoping the air would remove the flames. Her yells sounded like insane babble or some druid chant as she took an outraged dive at Demyx's door. Unbelievably, on her second or third try, _she knocked the door down. _She either weighed _a ton_ or she was just _that strong_—the kind of strong that can apparently tear down solid stronger-than-metal doors like they're made of paper. All I heard next was Demyx's cries and Swain's pleas for much needed mercy. Larxene never spared them, of course, but her attack did make Swain's infamous master clamber out of the room. I caught a quick glimpse of him as I was peeking out into the hall and was surprised to see a _mullet_ of all things get pulled back by the fierce grip of the air as he scurried like a rodent caught in a hurried you-flee-or-you-die chase brought on by a fox. I never got to see his face, unfortunately, but I had a feeling that this wouldn't be the end of things, Larxene would let me tag along for one of her bullying-and-torturing-Demyx-sessions (_Why can't your master keep to herself for once? _Swain snarled just yesterday, nearly blaming _me_ for Larxene's behavior. He's unrepentant when it comes to anyone causing harm to Demyx. I'll never understand what motivates them—Swain, Caravel, Price, Ramus—to love their masters so much. Then again, they don't have Larxene, the lucky spats.), and I would finally get to see the Melodious Nocturne's face.

Unlike the brief collection of Demyx and the almost-snaring glimpse of his ruddy face and exotic hair, I had seen Caravel's master much too perspicuously, mostly because of the fact he was passing by merrily while flanked by Caravel and he happened to pause to mock Larxene while she was grumbling in front of her door. I decided, after that encounter, that I really liked Luxord.

With how close she had been, it was almost like Caravel was his shadow, though it was more intimately so since she was clinging to his leg—a shadow that you couldn't shake off. Luxord didn't mind her gesticulations. I was fuddled by this because I knew that if I had strapped myself to Larxene in the way that Caravel had to Luxord, I would've received not just a kick but a good beating that was big enough to make every nerve on my body travel through my digestion so that some escape could be made to extract the overdose of pain. Thinking this made me flinch and grimace at the same time.

Luxord was just passing through, innocently of course, when he heard a few bedraggled words from Larxene, indicating sure signs of furious self-conflict. Larxene was debating about something that had been discussed with her and Marluxia—who was literally next door to Larxene's room—and was engrossed in contemplation so heavy that I wouldn't have been surprised if her thoughts had been sunken so much by the weight that they winded up in her stomach. I wasn't listening since I really didn't care what Larxene had to say and I was trapped in my phase of ignoring her. I was too busy paying attention to Luxord anyhow.

The man was interesting to say the least. He reflected a very Caravel demeanor…or perhaps it could've been the other way around, considering their positions. They walked, scarily, in nearly the same manner—shoulders back, feet pointed almost directly upward before they took the next step, chin lifted in a retentive jut, and eyes pierced in an indicative manner of cunningness. However, it was safe to say they didn't look alike. He had been wearing a grin that was immovable by his hooked jaw, clenched with no negative tension. His bleach-blond hair looked so plastered to his skull that at first I thought it was shaved until closer inspection revealed that minuscule hairs were rebelling from the roots of his hair. He had a thin beard that was pressed too tightly to his face, like he took particular care to make sure his hair wasn't too tangled and just properly trimmed, nearly the skin itself. A silver earring was pierced into his left ear, reminding me of Caravel's barrette, which she took to changing daily, like fashion actually _mattered_ with our existences. His blue eyes were bright like the sky but contained enough audacity to make me think that the sky they reflected contained squabbling birds whose only landing involved provoking people from below whose only attribute making them worthy enough to be provoked were if they were armed and dangerous, like they were _asking_ to get hurt. In one hand he twirled a card with a design I couldn't make out whilst in spinning motion.

I waved upon catching sight of Caravel, though Larxene seemed intent on sapping my joy—no matter how brief. She punted my foot and glared down at me. Noticing this off the mark (though it was such an obvious hit that there wasn't a chance you _couldn't_ see it), Luxord chuckled.

"And here I thought that that lightning bolt of yours that had been shoved up your ass had gotten removed. It still in there, I see? How _does_ it always manage to return?" I detected a slight accent in that gut-low voice of his, but it was too underway to rise to the surface, like his vocal cords decided to take up society's adaptations and snub the accent until it was so hidden that it was practically gone.

Larxene lifted her already furious face to level with Luxord's smirk. "You better get the hell out of here before a lightning bolt winds up in _your_ ass and your nervous system gets so fried that your brain finally gives up on you, if it hasn't already."

He chuckled. The more he spoke, the more I could hear his accent. "Did you store that insult with your lightning bolt? You look rather constipated right now." He held up his hands defensively as a growl—a _growl_—ripped loose of Larxene's mouth. "All in joke, I assure you. I believe you about the lightning bolt thing, since shoving is practically your trade of business." And then, with a nod from Caravel (though it wasn't hard to tell she was snickering), they departed.

Yep, I definitely liked Luxord.

There was only one member in the hall that I hadn't seen much of, and his name was, according to Swain, Axel. Swain, being knowledgeable on the matter, informed me that Axel was apparently a favorite of Larxene's. Hearing this made me match Axel to the voice I had heard draw flirtation from Larxene. It only made sense. I was curious to meet the man that could make Larxene swoon (Well, not exactly…but he seems to have left her with some grand impression.), but I never got the chance to see him. If he wasn't cooped inside his room, he was careening outside of the castle. Swain told me that Axel always snagged his castle time for naptime, and Kalmerir, Axel's Dusk, did the same. However, this information was protested by Caravel, who claimed that Kalmerir spent a lot of time around the castle and only napped if he saw it as absolutely necessary.

I still had yet to see any of Division One. I had seen practically every member in Division Two and met just as much. Marluxia is a constant visitor to Larxene, which is further confirmation that they're best friends. Sometimes it's sickening to witness; other times it's just irritating. Marluxia has a cool nature, and he opens himself so undisputedly with Larxene, like she's the first person he wrote down in his will—or he let her _write_ his will. Surprisingly, I actually like Marluxia, though I can't see how someone like him would waste his time around Larxene. He seems wicked in the way that is _not_ Larxene (because, let's face it, Larxene has developed her own version of 'wicked'), though there seems to be something else to him that I have to naturally admire. Their words are always exchanged in code, like what they're discussing is esoteric and should be kept on the down-low. I should've met Marluxia's Dusk by now, but from what I could gather, he always sends her out to do a butt load of work that's either completely necessary or completely unnecessary. Swain, since he knows the facts, said that it's a switch between both. All I really know about Marluxia's Dusk is that she's a girl—a _young _girl, was what Swain kept emphasizing, though I wondered what sort of little girl would suffer this fate—and she's extremely special. When I asked about what made her special, Swain just snorted in that nerdy habit of his and waved his hand as if to say, "Girl, please!" So much for an answer.

Within the passing days, it was an understatement to say that torture—provided by Larxene—reigned on me like a hailstorm containing chunks of ice that not only pierced me but stabbed pretty damn good with plenty of weight and force to back up its assault. Larxene not only hounded me every moment she could with strenuous tasks, but she purposely made me do the most pointless things so that she could mock me for it. If I had to listen to one more minute of her stupid, malicious, shit-inducing laugh, I was _really_ going to kill myself.

_Smash!_

I focused my eyes on the floor, not paying attention to the now-broken vase lying next to me. Earlier Larxene had bashed the wall, and now she was resorting to throwing things, meaning she hurt herself earlier or she just wanted an excuse to "accidentally" hit me since she apparently wasn't allowed to touch me hurtfully anymore. Apparently, someone had reported Larxene's violence and she had been chewed out by one of the higher-ups. I felt kind of…honored, by being defended. It made me feel more important than how little I obviously was.

I heard Larxene trudge from across the room, a surprisingly slow pace for one usually so gadded. I didn't have to look up to know her eyes were aimed at me.

"Oh. Eloise. Didn't see you over there." I would've been lying if I said it was hard to hear the gruesome smile in her voice, like she was all the more proud of her "accident." And she _was._ She crossed the room in an instant, standing over me, blocking the artificial lights from overhead to dim her pallid appearance.

I didn't say anything. I was just here until dismissed. That was all.

Since her witch's wart was unperturbed by this, she moved on. "You should really learn to clean up messes, Eloise. It's disrespectful to me if you don't…and you know how much I _loathe_ disrespect." She winked. She actually _winked_ right before she strode to her closet.

If that hadn't been a huge hint, the broom she pulled out from her closet was just a dead ringer…Wait a minute, where had that been when I had been sweeping her room with _my hands_?

She deposited the broom in front of me, letting it clatter to the floor before I could make an effort to grab it. "Clean it up. You'll get the pan when you're done sweeping."

…_So I _will_ get to sweep it in the pan, right?_

"Wiseass comments will get you nowhere. Congratulations, and have fun using your hands."

…Damn it.

Ignoring her finger wags and already-rising cackle, I began to sweep hurriedly, compiling the big shards into a disheveled heap. I scurried to grab a trashcan from the bathroom and keep it close at hand so disposing of the vase remains would be easier. Once the trashcan was in place, I began to pick up the shards and drop them in, being careful to avoid ones with sharp edges or curved points. It didn't take that long, but I kept the trashcan close at hand just in case Larxene managed to find any more breakable items. I'd be surprised if she _did_ find something since she had used up a lot of her breakable items in her room. Unless she had gone on some scavenger hunt in search of more in replacement, I doubted I would have to clean up any more.

Noticing me sagging against the wall in utter relief, Larxene skipped out in a deer-trounce and zinged so that she could survey my work. The whole time I had been cleaning she had been a spectator, so it seemed much too ridiculous that she would insist on having to survey what she already knows is a decent job. Though, knowing Larxene, she would find _something_ wrong.

Surprisingly, she didn't.

"Not bad," she complimented in a sniff, raising her head snootily. Though it's a gesture of high regard, I know that for Larxene this means nothing but displeasure—displeasure she finds in my good work, displeasure in the fact that she can't find anything wrong with it for once.

_Anything else?_ I asked in a strained voice.

I shouldn't have asked.

"You really have no muscle," Larxene remarked for the millionth time in the single hour I had shared with her as of the sixth day of my stay, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed as she watched.

I was lifting—or trying to—a dresser over my head, specifically _her_ dresser. The only problem was that the dresser was absolutely heavy and that I couldn't get it over my head considering that my arms were flimsy and couldn't withstand a lot of pressure. Larxene was pretty insistent in her command, however, that I lift the dresser over my head and _then_ move it to another space. The stupidest thing about this request was that the space she wanted me to move the dresser to was right next to the dresser's original spot, and it would be so much easier to just push the dresser into the new spot. But _no_. I _had_ to lift the piece of furniture _over my freaking head _first!

"As I recall, you were weak even when you were a human."

I grunted in near-agreement, almost reveling in glory when I noticed that I had lifted the dresser an inch off the ground. Larxene pounded her foot on top of the dresser, causing it not only to drop completely to the ground again but land on my hands. I shrieked and yanked them out from under while I glimpsed angrily at Larxene to see she had tacked an innocent expression on her face as she placed her elbow on the leg that had stamped on the dresser, looking at the ceiling like she was thinking exaggeratingly deeply about something.

"I got stuck with a useless one, didn't I?" she pondered aloud, as if I wasn't even there to listen to what she said. "Out of all the Dusks…Oh well. Not as bad as Marluxia's, I suppose."

I was too pissed to accept that as an even remotely close compliment. I stuffed my hands under the dresser and resumed lifting, despite the fact I knew it was nearly impossible with Larxene's weight supporting gravity's pull.

She seemed to recognize her statement as a cheap compliment, too.

"What? No _thank you_?"

She sniffed, pressing the back of her heel into the top of the dresser. The dresser pinned my hands so harshly into the ground that I couldn't even pull them out this time and sat there struggling, trying to remove them while fighting against my conscientious will, which told me that I should first obey Larxene's command before tending to my own care.

When I couldn't get my hands out, I scowled up at Larxene. She stared down leeringly.

I gritted my teeth. _Get. Off._

Her eyes flashed, like her element was already working its flare. I held my ground as best as I could.

"You know, lately I've been thinking something's been a bit off...And now, this little conversation has told me they have. Maybe some _adjustments_ should be made to fix that...What do you say, Eloise?" Her threat hit me hard. I wanted to drop to the ground and beg for mercy, but I forced myself to stay. It was better to appear ferocious than pathetic in her eyes. Which side would she respect more? Then again, which would she despise more? Which would she _love_ to see? If she _could_ love, that is.

She raised her hand, as if appending her threat, but then she froze. And then, surprisingly, she withdrew herself, removed her leg, and backtracked to the bed so that she could sit down. She even gave up at staring at me menacingly. What just happened?

As if to loan me an idea of what caused this strange behavior from her, a knock came from the door. I turned to see that it was open and the doorway was being occupied by an individual I had never seen before.

The man that stood in the doorway had tan skin and an eye patch concealing his right eye. A daggered, jagged scar ripped through the bottom of his left eye, coruscating the yellow iris that glowed brightly and enlightened the pupil in a golden ring. His hair was long, shadowy and thin with stripes of grey streaking backward into the low ponytail it had been placed in. He grinned mischievously, looking more vigorous than the Dusk standing next to him. I recognized the Dusk as Price, though at first it just didn't click because he didn't have a potion in hand and wasn't hitting himself.

Xigbar—the man I knew as Price's master and the member ranked as number two in the Organization—had his arms crossed in a defiant gesture as he leered at Larxene from across the room. Larxene, strangely, wasn't saying anything.

Price, bravely, broke the silence. _Eloise._

I nodded once. _Price._

He laughed in a release-of-tension kind of way. _Why so serious? At ease, cadet._

A sober Price. What a change.

Xigbar didn't even wait to be snapped at or welcomed in. He marched inside like this had been his room all along and he was just now returning to reclaim it. From Larxene's dark look, I knew that she didn't like this, but her mouth split into a smile that said she was amused—an obvious cover-up.

Xigbar noted the smile. "Creepy. You do that often for no reason whatsoever? Or are you just that happy to see me?"

This comment and his widening smirk bounced right off Larxene like she had suddenly gained the immunity to ignore it. "Oh, I was just thinking about how effective my knives are at carving out stuff—like _eyes._"

Xigbar whistled, narcotized by Larxene's threatening gibe. "Really? 'Cause I was just thinking about how good my guns are at catching targets, like ill-tempered women."

Larxene shrugged past him. "What are you here for?"

"So I have something to say, do I?"

"You wouldn't be here otherwise, would you? So cut the act before I cut _you_."

Xigbar snorted. "As if! Respect your elders, young lady, or I'll have to put you in time-out. Those threats of yours are a crock of _nothing_." His smirk deepened when he received Larxene's stare—a sign of cooperation. "I just overhead the boss man and his biggest fan talking gritty over some huge mission and promoting someone—a neophyte, of all things—to be the leader of it."

Larxene looked interested, judging by her slight lean forward. "What kind of mission is this?"

"Special one. Why else would it be so important to discuss in private?" Xigbar shifted, and Price followed, stretching his legs outward. "And special missions come with special packages and special little girls. You a fan of rumors? 'Cause I've got one for you. Take a guess at the rumored leader."

Larxene had nothing to say—or she just didn't want to say anything at all. Her twinkling eyes, however, exposed her.

"That's right, Bolt. You. But it's not just you, so don't grow another head."

"Oh? Who else?" She was curious to know who else was being considered, but the news containing her was so exhilarating that she didn't seem to care as much.

Xigbar's smirk was large, revealing how gleeful he was in giving away the news. "Marluxia. Fancy that. Your best bud. Both of you are in cahoots for being the leader of this mission. The Superior and his trusty clipboard seem pretty big on giving the position to Marluxia though. _More competent, _Saix said."

"So I'm _incompetent_?"

In time so blurred that I couldn't recall what had happened or calculate if any motion had occurred, knives that were more secure in knuckles planted themselves into the wall diagonal to the one I was against. The electricity that had been hovering over each knife oozed into the wall, zigzagging themselves in misled exploration of the landing. Larxene, studying the new display she had created from afar, drifted back. Her face wasn't lit. It wasn't angry, or sad, or wicked with a smirk that was about to baby a cackle. It was just…_clear_, like looking into a crystal and being able to define each edge, each design because it could not disclose itself or offer any means of deception_._ It was like examining a fresh piece of smooth cement—untouched by the environment, of time, of the things that marked it by accident, each mark lending a ledge of the truth. Larxene's face was a mask of nothingness, the symbolic expression of who she was, of what _we_ were.

Swain often called this expression _True Form._ It was precisely what the title stated. This was Larxene's true form, how she really behaved. It represented how completely emotionless she really was, how she couldn't really _feel_—how the tingling from inside her left behind from a heart that had been taken from her was just a ghost, a falsification of her true feelings. It was just like how she was the ghost of who she once was—what was left behind. The phantom emotions were a cheap imitation of the real thing, like the dull edge of a butter knife being compared to the sharp, threatening one of a steak knife. The phantasmal emotions couldn't "cut" or even do a trickle of damage compared to the emotions that had once been heart-bound. The hint of emotions inside us served as a replacement, but that just didn't work out with Nobodies. Nothing could be replaced. They could only be regained, and that was on rare occasion.

"And what's so damn _incompetent_ about me? Don't answer that," she growled as Xigbar looked as if he was about to open his mouth. Regardless if she was bothered by what Xigbar told her, Larxene's voice was much too bland for her to ostracize properly.

"Hey, don't kill the messenger! And I thought you'd be all happy for your dear friend," Xigbar said. With the way he said it, it was obvious he had known that Larxene _wouldn't_ have felt this way and her reaction was the big reward—and possibly the only reason—for making the trip to her room. "Guess I was wrong. Now before you end up cracking your own skull, got some more news. New news about new people."

This only fastened Larxene for a brief instant. Her face twisted with irritation now. There was enough effort in the expression to make it seem real, though any Nobody could tell the difference. Being that I am one, I knew what it was like. Acting out our emotions was like a person who couldn't ever feel the twitch of hunger declaring themselves as hungry and trying to satisfy their "hunger" by eating something.

Xigbar's grin had a touch of mischief to it, like he was inventing all of the information spontaneously. "Don't get that look. Get that? _New_ people. Work with me, Bolt! Xemnas found a new bone that he's gonna fetch soon. And I thought you'd be excited…Well it looks like _I_ got excited over _nothing _again."

Larxene snatched her knives, looking like she was polishing them while grasping them with her knuckles. "Oh shut it. You don't know when to stop talking. I don't get how this will affect me, so why mention it to me now or even at all?"

If I ever thought the smirk could leave Xigbar's face, I was wrong. "So nice of you to ask. It affects all of us, sweetheart. Otherwise it wouldn't be so damn important. But don't be so down about being second to last. After all, the newbie's going to be the wish bone you'll want to pick." His grin widened. "Because he happens to be the _key_ to granting our wishes."

A key…Swain mentioned it to me before. Xigbar was referring to a Keyblade.

Larxene took up on the hint but swatted it away like it lacked the importance Xigbar kept emphasizing. "Hmph."

"That's right. Hope you'll be there for the initiation." Xigbar's grin remained even as he lifted the hood of the cloak over his head. "Take care now, and be a good little girl. Wouldn't want to have a storm over this little talk of ours."

Price nodded at me. _See ya around._

I waved at him, almost saddened to see him go. I had been so distracted by their conversation that I hadn't paid him much mind. Next time I'll have to take advantage over any opportunity that comes when Price is sober.

Both exited.

Larxene didn't say or do anything for a long time. I wondered if she was truly bothered by what Xigbar had said. Was being leader of this mission so important that it required her thoughts? It almost sounded as if she was considering turning against Marluxia.

…Had that been Xigbar's intentions?

[-*****-]

Inspection day.

I didn't get it when Swain first mentioned it to me. He made it sound as if it was a regular holiday.

_Inspection day?_

_Yeah. It's at the end of every week—but it only applies to Dusks like us. The ones with only one master._

I stared, waiting for him to elaborate. It took him a while, but he caught on after he asked about three times why I was staring at him.

_At the end of every week, Xemnas gathers up all the Dusks—like us—and asks them about their masters. He likes to stay updated._

…_He's asking us to snitch on them?_

He hesitated, realizing he gave away the wrong impression. _Well, not completely. I mean, we _have_ to spill about everything that happened, what they discussed, what they did and all that…but it's not like we're giving any deep, dark secrets away. _He paused. _Well, if any of our masters have any we have to tell them…but most of the time there's nothing special. And if there is…it happens._

Deep, dark secrets…Did Larxene have any of those?

I hacked my brain to remember, any recollection or snippets that I could use against her to soothe my grudge.

I remembered how offended she seemed to be by the thought of Marluxia ruling as the leader over the mission Xigbar mentioned when she claimed to be just as competent of a candidate for it. Aside from this and her abusing me (which had already been reported), I couldn't think of anything.

_Hello? You don't talk a lot_, Swain observed out of the blue. He kept bringing this up the other day, not quite as a complaint but more as a plea. He had wanted me to talk more since I only ever just commented about certain things he said. His hidden plea didn't really affect me at all. It offered me no other motivation than to carry on normally. I'd been trying to socialize more around him, but I was too…anti-social?

And then I found it. Larxene's deep, dark secret.

_Speaking! Of course!_

_Speaking? What about speaking?_

I could've slapped myself then and there, but I winced instead.

_Uhh…_ No excuses. I couldn't come up with one so quickly. _Slip-up. Sorry._

Swain shrugged too nicely, too kindly, too…forgivingly. Having no heart and faking kindness was too natural for him! _That's okay. It happens._

I learned that that was too much of a catchphrase for him, but I had become accustomed to ignore it and, in an odd sense, respect it.

_So when does this 'inspection' happen?_

_Any time in the day…but I think he's gonna do it soon._

_Soon? _I didn't know if I was prepared for such a thing. To face Xemnas, the leader of the Organization, someone who could both captivate and terrify me, or rather what was left of me…

_Yeah. Don't sweat it though. The guy's better than Blaco._ He shuddered as he mentioned the crazy Dusk and began to trot away.

_Where are you going?_ He normally didn't leave me unless he was going to go to Demyx.

_To Demyx_, he answered simply. Knew it. _But don't worry I'll see you during the inspection. Trust me, you'll know where to go for it._ He waved and then hurried off in a summoned portal.

I still didn't know how to do that just yet, so besides unveiling Larxene, that would be my next goal. Then again, I had so many. Finding Geoffrey, getting away from Larxene, figuring out how to summon portals, and deciding…if this was really the right place to be were all the goals I had in mind so far. I almost had one goal down. Swain once showed me how to summon portals, but I didn't get it right away and had yet to master it. He ushered me to keep practicing because that's what it took. When I had been whole, I had never been too ambitious. I pretty much gave up when I began and went with the flow of things—as did Geoffrey. So for suddenly so many goals to come to mind either told me I was improving in my state or I had changed significantly.

To numb my mind and gather comfort before the inspection that was to take place, I decided to go to the Proof of Existence. The place really gave me a good vibe to think, besides how creepy the whole concept was.

I meekly lifted my arm, feeling the capability of travel, grasping the air welling from around me and driving it toward the end of my raised pincer. Eventually the pressured air burst forth from around me, taking a part of my being, my inner self, with it in its bombardment. This, combined, blasted a growing patch of darkness into the air, groping a literally torn fabric of reality into exposure.

Relieved and almost proud of my progress, I stepped into the hole and let everything sink in. The absence of temperature and then the sudden invasion of coldness made me stiffer than usual. I imagined the sterile environment of the Proof of Existence and the smell that had been inducted into me once I had been there frequently—the smell of _too-clean , _with not enough dust, of complete freshness. And as I closed my eyes, trying to picture the arrangement of lit graves, the temperature suddenly dropped altogether, leaving me. I opened my eyes and stepped forward in order to stand in the entrance of the place.

Finally, a successful transportation. I was here. One of my goals was fulfilled.

I scanned the place. Nobody else was here. Only me. I kept eyeing the spot where Blaco usually stood to gather fantasies on Xaldin's death, just to make sure I was absolutely certain I was alone.

In concluding I was, I stared at Larxene's grave and moved on, drifting from spot to spot. Eventually I moved back to Larxene's grave and imagined dark things that I probably wouldn't have thought of so delicately when I was whole. For example, just exactly what Xemnas would do to Larxene if he were to find out awful things about her—so awful that it was worth _killing_ over. I didn't have the heart to scold myself over thinking so badly. The truth was, I just didn't care. I wasn't _supposed_ to care. And so I didn't.

"If you were gone, I could be at peace," I muttered aloud for once. I had wanted to talk aloud for a long time now, but I never really acquired the audacity to do it until I was _positive_ that I was alone. Until now, I was so afraid to speak up. If Larxene wanted me to keep quiet and use the regular method of communication for Dusks, then there was something she was hiding from me. She had mentioned once before that me speaking aloud was controversial. If I revealed that Larxene had wanted me to keep quiet and ordered me to stay quiet, then there was undoubtedly going to be some trouble for her if I told Xemnas.

…_You can speak._

I whirled around.

So I wasn't alone.

Blaco was standing there, in the doorway, staring at me incredulously, like I had just performed a miracle. Apparently I had, but I didn't disclose that thought.

Since the shock wasn't there to be felt, I carried on naturally, lying with no conscience. _Yes, I can speak. And…?_

His nearly invisible eyes narrowed. He knew I was playing some kind of game, but he didn't want to become a player of it. _You can speak_ aloud_._

_I can? No, I can't. Whatever made you assume I could speak aloud is off by the long shot, because I can't._

_You did. I heard you_, he growled in a volatile manner. The heat in his voice, like boiling blood in the telepathic connection, hit me uncomfortably. It didn't intimidate me or make me tremble at him as it would do to Swain. It made me squirm, like I was being harassed, like his voice was a hostile form _of_ harassment. _I know the difference between the transference of thoughts and spoken speech._

I narrowed my eyes back at him. _And I know the difference as well, Blaco, and unless you have other business with me, you'll have to excuse me._

_But I heard it, too._

This time I froze, and I felt a silent tug of astonishment from the corners of my being, my nerves acting in place of the lost emotion.

Blaco had a companion with him—one that I hadn't seen before. He contained the same features that I'd seen from every other Dusk. Then I noticed that, like Caravel, he had some personalization, though this looked accidental. Right across the Dusk's chest ran a jagged line, streaking nearly like a sash from the tip of his shoulder to his waist. Black blotched around the line, looking somewhat like paint or possibly some stains of some unfamiliar substance.

This new Dusk scrutinized me, but there was no genuine care to his expression. I hadn't expected there to be, though he really didn't seem as welcoming as the other Dusks had been. Price was even more welcoming than him so far, and most of the time he was really snappy because he wasn't really sober.

I couldn't say anything. I could only stare in speechlessness, not even stepping up to do the _smart_ thing by discouraging them and _telling_ them they were misguidedly wrong—even if it would be dishonest. There was just something so wrong about them knowing that I could speak aloud, despite my plot to reveal to Xemnas exactly that.

Blaco continued to stare at me, like I had done more than a betrayal—like I had singlehandedly committed a crime that impacted him so badly he would have to seek vengeance to ploy the unspeakable.

_Why keep it a secret? _the other Dusk questioned.

I lowered my head steadily, making sure to keep my gaze leveled with theirs. The truth came out, like a glass of water that had been tipping over and had finally spilled.

"…It was Larxene's doing. She ordered me to stay silent. Otherwise…there would be too many inconveniences." Initially, I had planned on placing the blame on Larxene, and in a way she _was_ to blame. So…was I doing wrong by doing what I planned to do later earlier? My thoughts were treating it like a crime, like my getaway conscience made a swift return to throw some traces of its existence around to show that it had really once been there.

_Inconveniences?_

The two exchanged looks. The Dusk that I hadn't been introduced to yet stepped back.

_I'll inform Axel._ With one more glance tossed at me, he disappeared in a portal.

Axel…Then that had been Axel's Dusk…Kashmir? No…Kalmerir. Kal had been what Caravel and a few others had called him.

I drifted back as Blaco looked at me.

_It's disgusting…how you think your lie is liable enough to be plausible when it's unambiguous that it's one-sided, _he stated disdainfully.

My mind ticked with his words and the venom he had soulfully inputted in them, like he was trying to poison me with them. The words he had packed in there made me pause, but I didn't so much as pause as I did translate. It was like when thoughts were spoken inside your head, your brain automatically provided you with their meaning. For Dusks, that is. So when Blaco spoke them, I knew exactly what he was saying.

Was he _trying _to make me his enemy?

"You can try to bully me into fear like you do with Swain, but it isn't going to work," I hissed at him, causing him to stare at me blankly, a smirk and a scowl feuding to dominate the other in his expression.

_Fear? As if that can be felt without emotional essentialities…Swain's a fool for 'fearing' me, but you must be the greater fool for stating such an injudicious thing. What satisfaction would I achieve by implanting 'fear' in your lacking existence? None! That's an obvious impossibility and a stupid assumption._

The way he corrected me made me throw what little I had left of my politeness-enforcing conscience out the window.

"No _you're_ stupid and _you're _the fool for calling Swain one. He actually knows a damn thing and _cares_ for people even when he—and everybody else—knows that he can't! _He's_ doing something about his life and trying to make the most of it even though there's nothing left! While you're…you're being evil, rude, _mean_! You're being a total jackass! You _are_ a total jackass! So don't tell me a damn thing about fools or impossibilities or stupidity when _you're_ the one that represents them all by being impossibly foolish and stupid!"

Blaco stared at me—unaffected, though somehow ruffled, like my words had given him a noogie. As long as he took it as irritating, I was satisfied. He raised his head sharply in a gesture of preparation to no-doubt lob the insults back like we'd committed ourselves to a contest.

His voice was dark as it rained in my skull, but it was calmer than I thought it'd be. Not as homicidal as it had been with Swain; this sounded peremptory, as if he was gaining dominion over his underestimated control.

_Think what you want, _Eloise_. It doesn't make you any greater of a fool for wrathfully yelling at me in an infliction of guilt, possibly to shift my thoughts in another direction. It doesn't make a difference what you say, because it doesn't matter. Swain's a bleeding soul that seeks the company of others to resume his security and placing in the world. Without his 'friends' and his _stupid_ master, he'd be nothing—the greater disposition of it. In the end, the fact that we all remain here, loyal only by bonds that cannot be broken, makes us all fools. The greatest of the fools, however, are those that act as if nothing's happening, when something is. Who continue to act like their former selves when that's yet another thing that's been taken away from us and won't ever be regained, despite the fraudulent assurances of the Organization. The truth is we're being imprisoned, and our fantasies of escape and freedom are corrupted by our meaningless roles here._

I narrowed my eyes at him, but the prolongation of my thoughts wrestled with my attention and won. What Blaco basically said was that the Organization wasn't looking out for us, we were fools for serving them, and that we wouldn't ever be whole or free as long as we remained here. I wanted to ask what someone who was as mental as he was knew, but he dodged the opportunity as it came, by seizing the exit and not giving me another look. I bet _that_ satisfied him, the bastard.

I was still huffing as he went out, but I didn't run after him or accuse him of being a coward for running away. The smugness, the _rightness_ that he had flung at me just declared him to be the winner—which irritated the _hell_ out of me…or would. I was waddling around angrily, still mumbling to myself about the incident when Swain appeared from a corner, stepping out of a portal.

_There you are! _He grinned and waved. He seemed more cheery, as if he had good news to give away.

"Hey, Swain," I said casually, still immured by the short conversation I had shared with Blaco.

Swain stared at me in evanescent shock before disengaging his expression into one of untailored sense. _Kal wasn't joking when he said you could speak. You're just like Coryi!_

"Coryi?" I didn't know whether I should've been more shocked by Swain's cavalier reaction or the fact he was diving into another topic already.

_Yeah, that special Dusk I keep telling you about. But anyway, that's cool! Being able to speak makes you pretty special, too. When Coryi started doing it, it was _really_ freaky…but since, you know, we're kind of used to her speaking, it's not unusual for someone else to be speaking. Sorry, but Coryi beat you to the freak-out. It's really cool that you can speak! I wish I could, but I can't…and Coryi can't really _speak_, but she can sing aloud, so it's pretty close. You think you could sing?_

"Uhh…No, I don't think so, Swain. So Coryi can speak? _What_? Why didn't you mention it earlier?" I demanded.

_I wanted it to be a surprise! And she can _sing_, so it's different…and she sounds really pretty! Not that you don't. You have a nice voice…you just don't sing. You should try it though. I'm sure you'd be good._

"Uh, no thanks, Swain." I decided not to mention how I was so bad at singing that once when I had that Geoffrey broke a glass that had been nearby to put it out of its misery. He kept talking to me then about how the glass had wanted to commit suicide once it heard my voice, but it was having second thoughts. I had taken it so jokingly that it was hardly treated as an insult…though that didn't stop me from slapping him.

I wanted to know what specialty speaking—and _singing_, for Coryi's case—aloud for a Dusk meant. Was it good? Bad? Did it show the potential of wholeness?

_Hey, Ellie. Gotta tell you something_.

I blinked and peered at him. "Oh, right. What is it?"

_Well, the _real_ reason I came was to tell you that there isn't going to be an inspection today._

"Why?"

_It was announced to be on hiatus until further notice, and that's because Axel was telling Saix and Xemnas something…about Larxene. Kal told me. Larxene was holding you back, huh? Well, one thing's for sure. She's in _trouble_._

"She is?" How _much_ trouble? I added the smile to my features, smothering myself in relief. Larxene…Was she going to get what she deserved?

_Oh yeah. I asked Kal to update me on what happens. She's still being lectured._

"Did you see her? Did she look pissed?"

_Yeah._

"Good." It was then that I felt like a weight had drifted off me, like a part of me had been stripped away. It was like carrying a heavy object and then having someone else take it off your hands for you. I felt lighter, freer, less restricted.

Swain laughed at my expression of triumph. _So did she really torture you?_

"_Yes_." I was about to launch into a tirade about the whole thing when a portal whirring from behind caused both me and Swain to inspect the activity.

Kal stepped out from the portal, staring at us warily. He was still giving me a curious look but quickly discarded it when he faced Swain.

_It's done._

"What's done?"

He paused to stare at me, shedding his suspicions of me in the single glimpse. _Larxene. She's no longer entitled to having her own Dusk._

"_What_? So then…" I trailed off, staring at him in anticipation.

_Yes. You're no longer her Dusk, and she's no longer your master._

My thoughts of freedom traveled quickly to the two, their looks pleading enough to make me stop the willingly endless cheering. Since the very first day, I had been yearning for freedom, and now I was unchained from Larxene's wrath…unless she could continue to bully me outside of normal boundaries. But I doubted that. Thoughts like that were just a damper to my mood. I couldn't think about that right now.

Then, I remembered what Ramus had once told me. He had said that Dusks with specific masters were more privileged, more entitled. If I didn't have Larxene anymore, did that mean I was just like any other Dusk?

_Fear not. You have a new master._

Intrigued, I peered at him, nearly limbering my locked stance. "Who is it?"

Kal glanced fleetingly at Swain to see that the Dusk was just as interested in the answer as I was. With a sigh, he reported the answer.

_Roxas._

* * *

**So the story is _finally_ moving along. Phew...**

**Originally, there _was_ going to be an inspection day, and Eloise's speech was going to be revealed then, and then some dramatic stuff would ensue, involving Eloise witnessing Larxene's defeat and being stripped away of her privilege of owning a Dusk and then actually getting to see Roxas and stuff like that...but that would've increased the chapter's length a lot more. Also, there's plenty of time for that in the next chapter, right?**

**If any of you found Xigbar's puns about being Nobodies (as well as his references to Larxene's elements) when he was talking to Larxene, then kudos to you!**

**Also, do you think there's a significant change in Eloise's behavior? Hmm...**

**Thank you to those who read/reviewed! I hope all of you enjoyed the chapter and that you'll stick around for the next one: Five. (Creative titles, I know. You can tell I was operating off of my imagination the day I invented them.)**

**Until next time!**


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